We Leave Before We Are Gone

I haven't written for awhile, even though I've been busy with photography. Actually, very busy, but something has been on my mind that I cannot really put into words, let alone photographs. Nevertheless, I will try to weave things together as I go.

Winter came to Arizona in the form of a 100 year snow. Not that it doesn't snow here, but we had two to three feet, most of it all at once! To say that we were unprepared is an understatement, and I had lived in snowy places for thirty-five years where such levels were commonplace! Below, a snow-bound cottonwood tree reminded me of a wild-haired old man, maybe a white wizard out of Harry Potter.

Winter's Grip(e)

It's not that the grip of winter is unbecoming, an inconvenient snowstorm can be quite beautiful. But what it also does is force us to come to a stop, look around, and consider what is important. Events in life are like that, too. As I look into my crystal ball, I realize that there are many, many 100 year storms ahead. Will I be smothered, or will I raise my gaze to see the terrible beauty? My famous last words, "Just one more picture to share with you before I go......"

Sedona January 7, 2019

Before you realize it, though, winter has yielded and spring materializes. Here in Arizona, it was almost as if one day it was winter, the next, spring. In March, a close friend of mine, Chip Currie, was able to get a permit to hike into the Paria Canyon - Vermilion Cliffs Wilderness in search of what is known as the "Wave." A rather unique sandstone formation, it can only be accessed by ten hikers per day, but there's one catch: It's about a four mile hike, each way and that's if you don't make any wrong turns! Not knowing what to expect, I was carrying about thirty pounds of equipment and was excited about the prospects ahead. Oh, I forgot, the trail is over open desert terrain, no markers except some footprints in the occasional patch of sand, and Chip was carrying the only map!

Wave Country

The Wave was a scene from a different world. Hoodoos, domes, and buttes, crevices, slickrock, and sand, it was arid and beautiful under picturesque blue skies punctuated with fluffy clouds. It had been surprisingly warm as we labored up the trail. When we arrived though, the weather began to change. Oblivious to the dropping temperatures,  I fired away and below is one of my first impressions of the Wave.

The First Wave

As interesting as these formations were, I found myself more fascinated with intricate sandstone patterns and colors that reminded me of another planet (see below). I was so caught up in shooting that …

Into the Wave

Rings of Jupiter

… I failed to realize the temperature had dropped even further, in fact it was beginning to snow (!), and my friends had already begun the long trek back through the desert. Somewhat reluctantly, somewhat relieved, I followed, not wanting to be left behind.

That sudden change of weather got me thinking. I am not sure what I was pondering, but it was relentlessly worming around in my subconscious nonetheless. How quickly things can change. How temporary even "permanent" things are. The French say, "Plus ça change, plus ç'est la même chose." The more things change, the more they stay the same. We've all heard of the status quo, but is there really such a thing? The Latin phrase, tempus fugit (time flees) seems apt here; but maybe I will change it to status fugit to reflect the fact that just when I'm thinking I have recovered, I am at rest, I am safe, things change. The weather. The scenery. Politics. Friends and family are no longer who they once were, sometimes almost unrecognizable, never to return. Disease..... The earth itself crumbles! Even the stones are subject to time, they are temporary, but to what end? I am beginning to think the status quo is an illusion, a lie not to be trusted, not a place of rest, not even to be sought. With this in mind, photographs that catalyzed and perpetuated my mood called to me in a place known as Coal Mine Canyon. My attempt to convey this in the following few frames:

Steps in Time

Ravages of Time

Time takes its toll. A cliché I know, but true, as are most clichés. And suddenly I realize, without this erosion of time, we lose the value of the present. The very process we lament infuses  preciousness into that which will be lost, the beauty, however fleeting, that inspires us onwards. Towards the end of my very brief tour of Coal Mine Canyon, I came across one of several illustrations of this point:

Sacred Canyon

Whether the photograph conveys it or not, such beauty would not exist but for the erosion of time, destruction of what was, the harbinger of things to come, something sacred. Cherish your friends while you may; each is a gift and they will begin to leave long before they are gone.