Rooftops of Paris and the Eiffel Tower at Twilight, Montmartre
This photograph is partly a hotel story. There are all sorts of such stories, but this one began poorly and ended well. We took a cab from the train station to our hotel when we arrived in Paris, hopped out, ran inside, went to the desk to check in… and they had no idea who we were. Uh, we were in the wrong hotel. Ours was next-door and, if I recall, had a similar name. We sorted this out, went to the right hotel, checked in, and went up to our room. We opened the door to find… someone else’s luggage spread out in the room. Uh, no…
Back downstairs at the desk they apologized profusely and asked if we should mind an upgrade to a better room with a better view on a higher floor. Sounded good to us, and we ended up high enough to have a decent overview of the surroundings. We didn’t initially think of this in a photographic context, at least not until we found ourselves in the room at twilight one evening as lights began to come on in the city and soon the Eiffel Tower was illuminated.
Two decades after agreements between Utah and federal government to protect this national monument for all Americans in perpetuity, Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument is under threat from an administration that wants us to overlook its precious qualities and forget the hard-fought agreements (many of which benefit Utah) that let to its creation.
Some will tell you that places like Escalante-Grand Staircase National Monument are “empty” lands, and I can understand why a person might assume so — perhaps a first-time visitor or possibly a person who has never been there and is skeptical about what others say about the place.
I came to the red rock country rather late myself. I had decades in “my Sierra” under my belt, and it was hard to see how this Utah landscape could compare to the rocky heights,meadows, and forests I knew, especially since my only experience with Utah had come when I was very young and my family drove across the state past the Great Salt Lake on the way to someplace else.
Canyon Reflections
But friends insisted, “You have to go to Utah!” Eventually I went, hitting the big national parks, justifiably famous for deep canyons, red rock pinnacles, domes, and more. I even passed through Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, driving through the town of Escalante — I don’t recall stopping — on my way to one of those other places, unaware of and uninterested in what might be in the “empty” place outside the town.
Dry, cracked mud on top of red sand under reflected canyon light, Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument
Although I missed many things, at least I knew that I wanted to come back to Southern Utah.
Not long afterwards, a photographer friend suggested we go there in the fall and explore some places that he and his friends know. He has photographed here for decades, so I welcomed the chance to learn about places off the beaten track. We started in one of those big national parks, but then we headed to Kanab, and from there we decided to explore a few less known locations.
A box elder tree stands against the vertical sandstone walls of a Utah slot canyon
One morning we headed up a road into Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument. There was the camaraderie of being on the road with friends, along with the expectation that I would “discover” interesting things. However, as we headed up this gravel track, I found the visual impact of the scene was, to be honest, less than stunning. It seemed like, dare I admit it, an “empty” landscape — dry, relatively flat, no rocky peaks, and on that day a boring sky.
Miles up the road we pulled out and parked along a short nondescript spur, dusty and surrounded by brush. (Stopping at nondescript places would eventually become something to look forward to in this country!) I couldn’t see a thing that suggested a photograph, but we loaded up and dropped down a hill to a small creek. This was to be, finally, my first real introduction to canyon country.
Striped Rock, Grass, and Sand
I’m in my element in the Sierra, where most everything is, by now, second nature. I was distinctly not in my element here, and almost everything was new. We followed the shallow stream, sometimes walking on soft and wet sand, at times crossing drier ground between meanders and passing beneath cottonwoods, and often just wading straight up the creek. Rock walls began to rise on either side of the creek, and before long we were in a fairly narrow canyon. In places brush grew from cracks in the red rock, lit by reflected light bouncing down the canyon walls from above. The gentle sound of the creek was a constant accompaniment. I began to notice small things — some reflecting mud, a riffle reflecting light from canyon walls and sky, a few leaves lying on red rock, grass bent by passing water, reddish sand, rock strata offset by a crack, the texture of wet sand — and each one warranted a pause to photograph.
Not all places worth protecting qualify on the basis of monumental, stupendous features. Saving those is easy, since anyone can see they are spectacular. (OK, almost anyone.) But just because a landscape like that of Grand Staircase-Escalante reveals itself gradually and more quietly and over a longer period of time, it and the “empty space” it occupies are no less precious. In fact, because this beauty is more fragile and less obvious, I would argue that it may be even more precious.
Our original plans had us in London for a shorter period of time. But plans change, and since it turned out that we were going to make a trip to New York before our UK/Europe trip began, and it didn’t make sense to fly back to California for two days in between, we moved the start of our London visit up by a few days. We found accommodations in central London for the added days, but we had already found less expensive lodging in Greenwich for the original dates — so part way through our visit we moved out to the “suburbs.” (The Greenwich place wasn’t a bad one at all. It was just a bit further away from the action, which is why it was less expensive.)
In any case, we found ourselves commuting in to London by rail quite a bit, often passing right by the central portion of Greenwich. But eventually it turned out to be convenient to stop there, grab a bite, and check things out. This area is clearly geared to visitors — lots of restaurants, for example. But it has, at least to this American, a rather different feeling from downtown London, so we enjoyed wandering around a bit and we found a pub with a nice outdoor garden for lunch. The light was quite beautiful on this day. There were clouds around, but the atmosphere was bright and the light was intense, so much that this photograph somehow reminds me a bit of winter light in Southern California.
A group of urban fishermen working from a San Francisco Bay pier finishes up for the evening
During the last weekend of April I joined a group of fellow street photography and night photography enthusiasts in San Francisco. We met up for dinner in the Chinatown district, and afterwards we wandered down to the Embarcadero and the waterfront, busy with tourists at this time of year. Ultimately we ended up in a spot very popular with such folks, a pier the affords walking access to the waters of the bay. I spent perhaps a half hour out there photographing: people, the bay, passing ships and boats, the City skyline.
These urban fisherman are a regular part of the San Francisco urban scene and they represent a sort of intersection between the human and the natural worlds. They are everywhere along the City’s waterfront, and often are fishing within earshot and “eyeshot” of the busy urban scene. Stop and think about what this means and there is a lot to ponder. Even in a busy and fast-paced place like San Fransisco, it is possible to walk a few feet and find yourself standing quietly above the bay in dusk, perhaps with a few friends — one way to help maintain sanity in the urban world. These guys appeared to be finishing up for the evening and were simply standing around and talking as they packed up and as tourists stopped to watch.
G Dan Mitchell is a California photographer and visual opportunist. His book, “California’s Fall Color: A Photographer’s Guide to Autumn in the Sierra” is available from Heyday Books and Amazon.
