Tag Archives: Grand Canyon

Night Shots at Grand Canyon Village

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There are still opportunities for photography after the sun goes down.

I know I’ve written about this before in this blog, but it’s worth repeating: I like taking photos at night. I like the way the light illuminates the things we don’t notice during the day. I like the weird colors of the light sources. I like the deep shadows and the way some things seem to come out of darkness.

Grand Canyon Village, with its rustic, historic buildings, is one of my favorite places to photograph at night. And since I was so lazy yesterday afternoon, I thought I’d make up for it by taking my camera and tripod for a walk from Bright Angel Lodge, where I’m staying, to the El Tovar Hotel, which just happens to have a nice bar.

These are some of the shots I took along the way.

Outdoor Passageway

Outdoor Hallway

The historic Bright Angel Lodge is a series of stone and wood buildings along the South Rim of the Grand Canyon. The main lodge building houses the lobby, a museum, restaurants, and various service desks. The other lodge buildings are cross-shaped and house small, simple guest rooms like the one I usually stay in. And then there are cabins with two or four guest rooms per building.

Covered, wooden plank walkways run between many of the buildings. They’re illuminated at night and glow rusty red from the red-painted walls.

Cabin Door

Cabin Door

The cabins at Bright Angel Lodge are scattered along the rim. They’re all unique. Some have partial views into the canyon. Others are hidden away among the trees alongside the gravel parking lot.

At night, the doors to some of the cabins glow with a friendly, almost beckoning light. This one, facing into the canyon, seems to await the return of its occupants, who left chairs out front to watch the sunset from their room.

Lookout Studio

Lookout Studio

Lookout Studio is another of Mary Colter’s designs. This historic building now houses a gift shop. But if you come to the canyon, walk in and through the building. You’ll emerge on the other side, on the top level of a terraced overlook. Climb down for a good spot to watch sunsets or condors or tourists.

The building is lighted mostly from within at night. The wooden trim around its windows is painted a bright teal green.

Light Posts

Light Posts

Subdued lighting lines the path between the main building of Bright Angel Lodge and El Tovar Hotel. The lights are just bright enough to ensure that you don’t trip or bump into a grazing deer or elk along the path at night — but no brighter.

Although they line the path in even intervals, the curve of the path gives them the appearance of random blobs of light ahead.

Hopi House

Hopi House

Mary Colter also designed Hopi House, which is currently set up as a gift shop and gallery. She based her design on the architecture of Pueblo indian tribes such as the Hopi. In the old days — the early 1900s — Native American peoples actually lived in upper floors and on the roof of the building.

The building’s stone walls are a textural delight for anyone who admires such things. Set roughly, the stones cast deep shadows on the walls at almost any time of day. At night, things are a bit more subdued.

El Tovar Entrance

El Tovar Entrance

El Tovar, which was completed around 1905, is the grand hotel of the Canyon. When finished, it was hailed as the finest hotel in the west.

Made of dark wood with large porches and pitched roofs, El Tovar seems more in place in a densely forested mountain setting than at the rim of a desert canyon. Last night, its sign seemed to glow and its wide open doors welcomed visitors into the lobby.

El Tovar Lobby

El Tovar Lobby

The lobby of El Tovar is an impressive collection of mounted wildlife heads, southwestern decor carpets, plus leather sofas in seating areas, and gift shop displays. Last night, a young woman sat in a corner with her laptop, probably surfing the Web — the lobby is one of the few places where WiFi might be available.

I captured this shot with my fisheye lens, which is why it appears distorted around the edges. I like the symmetry of this shot.

Jewelry Case

Jewelry Case

One of the highlights of El Tovar is this round jewelry case in the middle of the lobby. FIlled with the finest quality, handmade Native American jewelry sparkling under bright lights, it’s like looking into a museum display.

I used my fisheye lens for this shot, too. Although intended mostly as an experiment, I thought it was good enough to share here.

The Best Irish Coffee I Ever Had

By the time I reached this point, it was 9 PM — too late for the martini I had on my mind when I left my room. But I stepped into the bar anyway. It was nearly deserted. I sat at the bar and ordered an Irish Coffee. The bartender made me the best one I’d ever had, complete with a single sugar cube, fresh whipped cream, and a bit of creme d’menthe for color and minty flavor.

When I finished, I set my tripod on my shoulder and walked back to my room. I nearly bumped into a mule deer doe and her fawn along the way.

And yes, I was the only photographer out last night.

Why I’m Not Taking Photos at the Grand Canyon

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And why I didn’t finish this post right after I started it.

I’m at the Grand Canyon. Again.

I come here 20 to 30 times a year, often on helicopter charters. This time, I’m taking a couple from Montana on a Southwest Circle Helicopter Adventure. That’s a 6-day/5-night excursion. The second day (and night) is spent at the South Rim of the Grand Canyon.

Bright Angel Lodge

A fisheye view of my room at the Bright Angel Lodge. Simple and relatively cheap.

As usual, I have one of the tiny rooms in the Bright Angel Lodge. The historic lodge and cabin buildings were designed by Mary Colter and built in the early 1900s. My room lacks the features most guests take for granted: television, air conditioning, and shower. I don’t need the first two and the third is down the hall.

I lucked out this trip and wound up with a corner room that has windows on two sides. There’s even a window in the bathroom. But best of all, it’s literally 100 feet from the rim of the canyon. In fact, if I look out one of my windows, I can see the wall of the North Rim 10 or 15 miles away.

Not bad for $80 a night.

My passengers are staying at the Thunderbird Lodge, with a partial view of the canyon. Their room is modern and has all amenities. It also cost $180 per night.

Grand Canyon

A shot taken in passing on my way to lunch today. The clouds were great; they really added depth to the scene.

This trip, for some reason, is different than the others. I didn’t feel at all motivated to walk along the rim and shoot pictures. I think I’m tired of photographing the Grand Canyon. Is that possible?

I have hundreds of photos of this place. But none of them can really capture its magnificence. Every time I try, I’m disappointed. I feel that it’s time to stop trying.

So I spent most of the afternoon in my hotel room, pulling movies off SD cards to clear them for more movies, catching up on Twitter and e-mail, and putting a few videos online. By 5 PM, I realized that I was avoiding my photographic duties. And that made me wonder why I considered taking photos a “duty.” Almost as if it were a chore. Was it?

I sat down to write this post. I entered the title in my offline editor. And then I stopped and scolded myself.

No, I was not going to miss a beautiful Grand Canyon sunset. I was going to get my ass outside and walk along the rim. I didn’t have to take photos, but I could if I wanted to. It was more important to be outside, in the fresh air, on a beautiful late summer afternoon with one of the world’s Natural Wonders in front of me.

So I went outside with my camera. Less than a minute later, I was on the Rim near the Lookout Studio, admiring the way the late afternoon sunlight played on the buttes and canyon walls right in front of my face.

There were lots of other people out there. Most were moving about, snapping photos along the way. Many spoke in languages other than English. They were all ages, although I can’t say I noticed any school-age kids.

El Tovar

El Tovar, in the late afternoon light.

I noticed an artist sitting on a rock with an easel in front of him. This week is the Grand Canyon Celebration of Art: Plein Air Event & Modern Masters Show. The artist, Sedona-based Williamson Tapia, was using oils to paint his interpretation of the cliff on which El Tovar Hotel sits and the magnificent clouds above it. His piece was mostly clouds.

We chatted for a while about art and the Canyon as I watched the light change. The red light and deep shadows behind the buttes were calling me. I excused myself, ducked through Lookout Studio to the cliffside overlooks below it, and snapped a few photos.

Grand Canyon

A look into the Grand Canyon in the light of the setting sun. The dark and hazy canyon is Bright Angel Canyon.

I shot RAW + JPEG Fine. I don’t usually shoot RAW. I’m hoping that I can learn more about it and use it to make better photos. I figure that I can’t learn more about RAW unless I have some photos to work with. So today was the day to start collecting them. The JPEG Fine will give me some thing easy to play with until I’m ready to work with the RAW format images.

When I was finished, I went back. Will claimed I’d given him good luck; that he’d found his style for the painting. We chatted some more as he worked. I watched him paint the green bushes and trees on the cliff below the hotel and then touch up the clouds with bright white tops and lavender gray bottoms. The light got softer and redder, but it didn’t affect his work; he was painting something completely different, something he saw. Onlookers came and went, admiring his work. None lingered. We continued to talk, agreeing (among other things) that one day a week, there should be no television broadcasts.

Finally, the light faded to the point that he couldn’t continue his work. He stepped aside and I got a good look at it. He told me he’d put it in the fridge back where he was staying so the oil would stay pliable. If those clouds were back the next day, he’d continue working on it to finish it.

We exchanged cards, shook hands, and went our different ways. I came right back to my room to finish the blog post I’d started with a title two hours before.

Now, as I listen to the crickets outside my window, I wish I’d spent the day outdoors, exploring some new part of the Rim.

Note to Self: Not Everyone Flies

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I have to keep reminding myself because I do forget.

Yesterday afternoon, I sat down with the September 2009 issue of Flight Training magazine (because “a good pilot is always learning”), prepared to page through the mostly airplane-specific content for a few good tidbits that also applied to flying helicopters. I started with the “President’s Perspective” by new AOPA president Craig Fuller.

The fourth paragraph nearly knocked me off my seat:

Over the Independence Day holiday, I urged everyone to celebrate their freedom to fly by getting out and into the air, whether for a family vacation or a quick sightseeing expedition. I also urged certificated pilots to take a nonpilot for a ride to let them experience a new perspective on general aviation. There’s no better way to make sure that GA remains relevant and vibrant than to get out in the sky and do it! Taking nonfliers along for the ride can introduce them to a new world, and might even be the key to bringing the next generation of pilots into the cockpit.

I added the emphasis here; these are the phrases that woke me up from my afternoon burn out.

These phrases reminded me that as a pilot, I’m a member of a tiny community of folks who can just get out and fly. Very few people are as fortunate as we pilots are in this respect.

It’s a Natural Part of My Life

Oddly, flying has become such a part of my life that I don’t think twice about doing it. Here’s a good example from this week.

I need to reposition my “redneck truck” to Grand Canyon Airport (GCN) before next Thursday. The truck is one of the few vehicles I own that can seat three people comfortably. Ground transportation from GCN into the park sucks — the shuttle service is inconsistent and a huge time suck and there are no rental cars (what’s that about?) — and I’ll be there by helicopter at least three times within the next three months with at least two passengers each time. I need to get my people into the park quickly and comfortably — they’re not paying all that money to sit around waiting for a shuttle van. Since I can’t rent a car and I happen to have a spare truck, I figured I’d just put my own transportation there for the season.

I have to drive the truck up there. No getting around that. It’s a 2-1/2 to 3 hour drive. But I didn’t even think about getting someone to drive me back. Instead, I figured I’d ask a friend to fly up and fetch me in return for a fuel top-off. I sent out an e-mail to a friend with a Mooney who is always looking for an excuse to fly, we picked a date and time, and we’re good to go. If he didn’t want to do it, I could think of at least four other people — including my husband, who is half-owner in a Grumman Tiger — who might do it. The idea of driving back never even entered my mind.

Until I read Fuller’s comments and realized that just about everyone else in the world would plan to drive back. The idea of flying back would never even enter their minds.

What It Means to Me

It’s hard to explain to a nonflier what flying means to me. Part of that is because I can no longer imagine things from their perspectives — not being able to just get out and fly. But the other part is their sheer lack of understanding of what it’s like to be airborne. Yes, I know what my town, a good portion of Arizona, and lots of the western states look like from 500 or 1000 feet above the ground. I know how the air will behave as I cross over a dark green alfalfa field on a sunny day or slip into the shade of a cumulous cloud just starting to get heavy with precipitation. I know what it’s like to fly over or past or under a large bird, to cross over the top of an airport with a plane just touching down on the runway beneath me, to slip 1,500 feet below a 747 landing at Sky Harbor Airport (PHX). I know what it’s like to fly up a twisting canyon, level with the tops of the canyon walls, and how it feels to zip low over the surface of a lake or desert plain. I know the feel of the aircraft around me, responding to inputs that my hands and feet automatically feed into it at the whim of my brain — to be one with a vehicle that can move freely in three dimensions, against the pull of gravity.

North to the Future

When I started up my laptop to write this, this is the photo that popped up as my random desktop picture. The world is wide open to a pilot.

I’m not the only one around here who can say all of these things. Once I learned to fly and began spending more and more time at airports, it was only natural to meet and become friends with other pilots. Whether they’re helicopter pilots like me, owners of well kept classic airplanes like my friend’s Mooney, or tinkerers who built their aircraft with their own two hands, they’ve all tasted and perhaps feasted on the freedom of flight. From the guys who put fat tires on their taildraggers so they can land in dry riverbeds to the folks flying big twins and small jets to places like Washington, Idaho, or Colorado, they’re all the same. They’re pilots.

Get on Out There and Fly!

It’s strange that I can no longer see the other person’s point of view — strange because of the number of nonfliers I take flying routinely for my flying business. Perhaps that’s because I fly helicopters. I take it for granted that most people don’t fly in helicopters. But the reality is that most people don’t fly in small aircraft at all.

So here’s my request to all the readers of this post:

If you’re a pilot, take someone who’s never been in a small aircraft flying with you sometime between now and the end of the year. Let them experience the wonder of flight; give them the “new perspective” Craig Fuller wrote about.
If you’re not a pilot, grab a friend and go flying. Take a flight at your local airport or the next time you have a chance to take a tour where aerial tours are offered. Do it before the end of the year.

And then think about it — from all perspectives — and feel fortunate that such an activity is within your grasp.

Grand Canyon to Lake Powell

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[Almost] Too tired.

I slept terribly while at the Grand Canyon. This was due mostly to my room’s climate control — and my inability to set it properly. My room had a baseboard heater that seemed to take forever to warm up the room. I was asleep when it got to the temperature I’d set it to and the room got very dry and stuffy. I woke up and opened the window a crack to get some fresh air in. From that point on, the sound of the wind in the trees kept me from drifting back into a deep sleep.

As I tossed and turned, I was worried about how the forecasted high winds would affect our flight from GCN to PGA.

I finally gave up trying to sleep at about 5:30 AM, which is my normal waking time anyway. Sunrise was only moments away and I was only steps from the rim of the Grand Canyon, but I was too tired to rush out with my camera. Instead, I took my time dressing and getting some of my things together. El Tovar’s dining room opened at 6:30 and I wanted to get one of the first tables. I had plenty of time.

It turned out to be a good thing that I didn’t rush. I would have been disappointed — like that horde of photographers the evening before probably was. There was a huge, thick cloud on the eastern horizon. Sunrise had been a non-event — as it sometimes is at the Canyon — when the world brightened without dramatic colors or shadows. There’s soft light and then there’s really soft light.

Lookout StudioLookout Studio at the Grand Canyon’s South Rim, in slightly delayed first sunlight.

When I started my walk to El Tovar, the sun was just peeking out over the top of this cloud. I had my camera with me and shot Lookout Studio and the Canyon beyond with some of that early morning light on it. I imagined — mostly through experience — all those photographers shivering for an hour or more at Mather Point or whatever the designated “best spot” for sunrises was, finally getting a few shots that showed off the canyon’s dawn colors.

I got a table for one at El Tovar where a waiter who is definitely in the wrong line of business “served” me. I won’t go into details, but I will mention that he was rude to me — twice. My mood had been cheerful, despite two consecutive nights of bad sleep, but he managed to bring it down a notch. My breakfast was good, though, and once I got the pity of another server, strong, hot coffee kept coming.

Back outside on the rim just after 7 AM, it was still quite deserted. I had three hours to kill before meeting my passengers. I killed it by checking the weather multiple times.

I use four different methods to check the weather while I’m traveling:

  • My new Blackberry Storm has a weather application called WeatherBug. I highly recommend this to anyone with a Blackberry. You set it up with predefined locations or let it get you the weather closest to your current position, using the GPS. The weather info seems to come from the National Weather service and is augmented with icons and other graphic elements that make it easy to read. On my previous phone, a Palm Treo, I used the Web browser to visit the National Weather Service’s mobile Web site where I got the same information with a bit more effort.
  • My phone has a directory of the airports I fly into programmed into it. I simply dial the number for the airport’s AWOS/ASOS system and get current conditions read to me. Want to try it? Here’s the number for Grand Canyon’s automated weather observation system (AWOS): 928-638-0672.
  • If I have a computer with an Internet connection — which I can usually get via dial-up networking on my smartphone — I can check the DUATS.com Web site. This is a lot of weather information — usually a lot more than I need — but it is an official source of weather for pilots.
  • If I’m really concerned about the weather, I can call 800-WX-BRIEF and talk to a briefer. I’ll be the first to admit that I rarely do this. The information available to briefers is the same information that I can get from DUATS. Most of it is of interest to airplane pilots flying at altitudes I’ll never reach, traveling distances farther than I usually travel. But this is another official source of weather. And on one occasion I can remember quite clearly, a briefer helped me find my way over a mountain range that was clouded in.

On Tuesday, I mostly used the first two methods: getting the forecast and hearing the current conditions at GCN and PGA. Although PGA had high winds forecasted for later in the day, the winds remained calm at each call. GCN was another story. Each call brought a report of higher and higher winds. By the time I was ready to meet my passengers, winds were 22 mph gusting to 29. The forecast called for gusts up to 50 later in the day.

We were at the airport and climbing into the helicopter by 10:15 AM. My passengers waited inside while I preflighted. After adding some oil, I climbed on board and started up. I was parked exactly perpendicular to the wind, so my initial pick up into a hover wasn’t as pretty as I would have liked. But when I pointed it into the wind, I had no trouble getting airborne. We turned to the southeast to exit the GCN airspace and begin skirting around the Grand Canyon Special Flight Rules area. I had to keep the helicopter’s nose pointed about 15° off our path of flight to keep us in trim.

It was bumpy, but not nearly as bad as I’d expected. We dropped down off one plateau and then another. Soon we were flying over the Little Colorado River Gorge, heading northeast. We passed over a herd of wild horses at 500 feet and I asked my passengers whether they wanted me to circle back to see them better. They said they didn’t so I kept going.

We had a wicked tailwind. At one point, the GPS showed a ground speed of 152 knots. My airspeed never exceeded 110 knots.

At Page, I gave them a quick tour of Horseshoe Bend, the Glen Canyon Dam, and the Wahweap Marina, where my passengers would be staying. We had a bit of trouble landing at the airport because there was a plane in the pattern that kept changing its mind about what runway it would be using and I just couldn’t see it. (I will not approach an airport for landing unless I can see all of the planes in the pattern or there’s a controller to keep us separated from other traffic.) But we were finally on the ground about an hour after we’d left the Grand Canyon.

That same drive would have taken about 3 hours.

I had a lot of running around to do over the next few hours: taking my passengers to the marina for lunch and their boat tour, tying down the helicopter, having lunch, checking my passengers into their room and bringing up their luggage, checking into my motel in town.

I wasn’t staying at the marina. To make a decent amount of money on the excursions, I have to stay in more affordable places. So I stayed at the Page Boy in town. Not sure if I can recommend it. It was recently refurbished, but it still has that 1970s look about it. But it was $60 less per night than the the cheapest room at the marina. That’s $60 in my pocket. And I was too damn tired to enjoy the marina anyway.

Hedgehog Cactus
Hedgehog Cactus, in bloom.

One thing the Page Boy does have is a small but nicely landscaped desert garden around the pool. And that’s where I saw this hedgehog cactus, with more flowers on it than I thought possible. The flowers were a bright reddish orange and looked as if they were made of wax. I had to shoot a bunch of photos of it. I don’t think I’ll ever see a specimen this nice ever again.

I spent the afternoon trying to nap and not succeeding. I gave up at around 5:30 and went to get an ice cream. Then I went back to my room and watched entirely too much television on Hulu.com.

By 9 PM, I was sound asleep.

Sedona to Grand Canyon

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More photos from my trip.

I slept pretty crappy last night. My room got cold and I had to get up in the middle of the night to crank up the heat and throw an extra blanket on. I was very glad for the extra blanket. The heat — not so much. It was noisy and part of what kept me up was the sound of it going on and off for the rest of the night.

Sedona Morning

Okay, so it’s a crappy photo. Sorry. But it shows what I was seeing, so it stays.

I woke before dawn feeling too lazy to walk out to the overlook with my camera. Later, I finally went out and managed to capture a hot air balloon in flight. It would have been a better photo about 15 minutes earlier.

I was in Sedona, of course. On the second day of a Southwest Circle Helicopter Adventure.

Once I shook the laziness out, I went over to the lookout and shot some early morning photos of Coffee Pot Rock and the neighboring red rock buttes. I was the only person up there — which really surprised me. The last time I was up there at dawn, there had been a small crowd. But tourists are weird about sunrises and sunsets. They’ll stick to a sunset until the sun slips behind the horizon, often missing out on the colorful light show that often comes afterwards in the clouds. For sunrises, they’ll show up before the light appears and leave just as it’s starting to play on the surroundings. So perhaps I’d missed the crowd. The light was good — although it would have been better a bit earlier.

Coffee Pot Rock and Friends

Coffee Pot Rock and nearby buttes on an early Sedona morning.

N630ML

N630ML at Sedona Airport.

After grabbing my passenger’s luggage and running them over to the airport restaurant for breakfast, I headed out to the helicopter to load it up and preflight. And take a few photos. Please don’t think I’m consumed with photographing my helicopter. I’m not. But I do need a few new shots of it someplace other than parked out in the desert. And you gotta admit: it is pretty.

By the way, did you know that Sedona is listed as one of the top 10 most difficult airports to land at in the U.S.? I think it was in AOPA Pilot, but I could be wrong.

After some more running around — including finding myself a latte and putting gas in the rental car — my passengers and I took off for the Grand Canyon. I took us northwest past Sycamore Canyon and up to the Colorado Plateau. We flew over my place at Howard Mesa and past the old airport near Red Butte before coming in for landing at Grand Canyon Airport.

There was another R44 on the other transient helipad. The pilot had tied down just one blade. Not very bright unless you want to damage the droop stop. I know this from experience. On an R44, you tie down both blades if you’re serious about protecting them.

I buttoned up the helicopter while my passengers waited on the ramp. It didn’t take long. We were running very early. That meant we spent a lot of time waiting for their helicopter flight over the canyon with Maverick. Afterwards, we took a taxi into the park.

Now normally I’d bring my passengers in to the hotel where they’d pick up the key for their room later on, tell them where to get the key, and let them loose at the canyon. I’d check the luggage and get lunch. Later, I’d check them in and move their luggage to their room. After spending a few hours along the rim, they’d come to the desk, get their key, and go to their room.

Today it didn’t work like that. When I got back from lunch and went to check on the status of the rooms, my passengers were waiting in the lobby. The rooms weren’t ready. My passengers weren’t interested in a stroll along the rim. So they waited.

For about 2-1/2 hours.

I felt terrible about this, but there’s nothing I could do. The rooms are guaranteed for 4 PM check in. Sometimes they’re ready earlier. Sometimes they’re not. Today they weren’t. I never in my wildest dreams expected passengers to prefer sitting in the lobby of the hotel to wait for their room instead of sitting outside on a beautiful day with the Grand Canyon in front of them.

Of course, my room was ready first, but I couldn’t claim it. When theirs was finally ready — at 3:45 PM — I paid a bellman to take them and their luggage to it.

Their room is a canyon view cabin with a fireplace, television, and full bath. Mine is a tiny dorm-like room with a toilet and sink but no shower. It’s cosy, but there’s at least one spider living in it and the light bulb is missing from one of the two bedside lamps.

Squirrel

This photo is not cropped — this squirrel was close.

Anyway, I took a lot of photos of the canyon and the tourists and the squirrels while I was waiting. The squirrels were especially entertaining. They’re not afraid of people at all. They come right up to you, especially if they smell food. I think one of them caught a whiff of the cheese and crackers in my bag. Everyone was taking photos of them, watching their antics. I was very pleased to see that no one fed them.

Bright Angel Trail

Bright Angel Trail. There are three hikers in those two circles.

Once we were all settled into our rooms — at least I assume they’re settled into their room — I caught the shuttle out on the West Rim Drive, making a few stops along the way. The light today was a bit softer than I like for a late afternoon at the canyon, but it got better (and worse) as time went on. One of the stops offered an excellent view of Bright Angel trail. This shot isn’t very artistic, but it does document the zig zag nature of the trail. And the two red circles indicate where hikers were coming up. Can’t see them? I’m not surprised; I had to zoom in on the full resolution photo to find them.

Photographers at the Grand Canyon

How different can these photos be?

There was a group of photographers working their way to Hopi Point, which is apparently “the best” lookout for sunset photos. I got a real kick out of them when I saw them all lined up to take the same photos. If this is what “photowalking” is about, I don’t think it’s for me. Most of these folks had attitude written all over them. They carried backpacks full of lenses and had tripods that could have supported me. And they were hurried along by a guide — or troop leader? — who kept reminding them of the time and how important it was to reach Hopi Point by 6:15 PM.

Personally, I don’t think true art can happen if it’s rushed.

Grand Canyon Sunset

My Grand Canyon sunset shot.

I stuck around at Powell Point and got all of my fading light shots from there. I could see Hopi Point out to the west — it was absolutely mobbed with people. Powell had a steady handful of people that came and went. The light got good about 15 minutes before the sun set and I got this rather nice shot. There are a few others that aren’t bad; I may put them in my Photo Gallery.

I took the shuttle bus back to my room, put on comfy clothes, and started winding down for the day. And I wrote this. Next up: some cheese and crackers and a movie on my laptop.