The next day was an eventful one. I hiked a couple of miles along the Rim Trail. Mom was a bit too uncomfortable with the sheer drop offs so close to the trail, so she found a bench with a view and hung out there with Norman.
The wind through the canyon has a very different quality to it than normal wind. It was mesmerizing to listen to as I walked.
We drove East along the canyon, stopping frequently at viewpoints along the way. It was gorgeous to be there, but I’m not as enamored with the photos from this day since the light wasn’t great. The contrast between these photos and the day before is testament to why time of day really does matter in photography.
The highway then headed through Navajo country toward Page. It was sad and desolate to see all the once-vibrant roadside stands selling jewelry and pottery empty and falling down. The poverty was very apparent.
It was along this stretch of road (I think) where mom and I caught sight of something huge flying way up, like maybe 50 feet or so in the air. Where it came from and how it got so high we couldn’t figure out, as there were no trucks nearby that looked like something could have flown off. At first it looked like it might be a piece of cardboard, but as we got closer and it started to make its descent it became clear that it was either a sheet of plywood or particle board. It flipped and floated the way a feather might, making it hard to predict what direction it was going to take. The car in front of us swerved, though the board was still high enough that the car easily slipped underneath.
Everything went in slow motion for me. I could see it in my mind, the board crashing through the windshield, and I really thought, this is it. It’s real, and it’s really bad. This is how I’m going to die.
I don’t know how Mom kept her wits about her driving, but she swerved at just the right time and it slapped onto the road behind us.
We still don’t know where the hell that thing came from.
We continued on to Page, and walked the short way out to Horseshoe Bend. Poor Norman seemed like he was about to kick the bucket in the heat, so we didn’t stay long, but I’d love to go back there some day. It’s a surreal place, though quite crowded, and again I was wishing I was there in different light. But alas, not everything can be experienced at the best time of day.
We did, however, explore some of Lake Powell that evening with beautiful golden light, and perhaps my favorite time of day to shoot, blue hour.
