Better Lucky than Good
An old saying, maybe, but one that's all too frequently accurate as was displayed during my first trip to the desert in 1997. An incident that occurred while photographing in Lower Antelope Canyon near Page, Arizona during a family vacation brought home to me the absolute truth of that saying..
The trip started innocently enough in Moab, Utah. It was my first photo excursion to the desert and I was a bit overwhelmed by all the subject matter I encountered the first morning in Arches National Park. I shot some film, had no clear idea what I should photograph first so it ended up being mostly documentary snapshots. A terrific reason to return someday. One day there then on to our next stop, Halls Crossing on Lake Powell where we had reserved a 3 bedroom trailer and speedboat for a day on the lake.
Lake Powell was all it was billed to be, Jewel of the Desert. The day dawned clear and sunny and after getting the once over on our rented powerboat we were off to explore with some water skiing also on the agenda. Got my first glimpse of some Anasazi dwellings, the Defiance House ruin in Forgotten Canyon. The lake was truly astounding, capturing my attention seemingly at every bend. I knew I'd be back to this place many times. A great day on the lake followed by a wonderful night's sleep and up the next morning on our way to the next destination, Page, Arizona.
One of the reasons I'd included Page as a stop on this trip was my desire to photograph Antelope Canyon, perhaps the most famous slot canyon of all. It is situated about 2 miles outside Page on the Navajo Tribal Lands and appears in countless television commercials, tons of print ads, and just about every existing brochure detailing the virtues of this area.
Those of you that know me know I'm a research junkie. When I'm planning a trip to a location I've never seen I spend countless hours on the internet trying to get an idea of what to expect. That way I can previsualize to a certain extent what I'm going to photograph. My reading on slot canyons kept referring back to one thing: "If there is rain anywhere within 30 miles of the canyon, GET OUT!!! These canyons are natural funnels for water and a flash flood is something you don't want to endure in this confined space."
Two miles outside of Page is the entrance to Antelope Canyon. On one side of the highway a Navajo concessionaire takes your money and shows you the entrance to Lower Antelope Canyon. On the other side of the highway a Navajo concessionaire from another clan takes your money and drives you to the entrance of Upper Antelope Canyon. I chose Lower, paid my $5 and headed down the first in a series of ladders that take you to the heart of this slot canyon 60 feet below the surface. I took a brief look before heading underground and saw that there were some clouds on the horizon but nothing immediately threatening.
Once I reached the bottom of the canyon, it was apparent that this photo experience would be all I ever hoped. There were no bad compositions and changing the angle of view changed everything. It was marvelous. I was in photographer's Heaven for at least a little while. After about an hour of shooting, I began to notice some sand falling on my head and equipment. Obviously the wind on the surface had picked up. Then I noticed that my exposures were getting longer and longer. A glance upwards showed me that it was getting cloudy above my head. Then I noticed that the other people in the canyon were rushing past on their way to the surface and I could hear someone above me shouting something but I couldn't make out the words. I kept thinking "just a few more exposures….I don't know when I'll get this chance again."
All of a sudden, the little man in my head started screaming…"Hey, it's cloudy on the surface….clouds equal rain….remember your research and get your dumb butt out of here." I packed up and started hustling to the surface noticing it was getting darker and darker. With about 3 ladders to go, I noticed raindrops starting to fall on me and increased my pace, finally climbing up the last pitch to the surface just as the sky opened up. I headed over to the parking lot where one of the other tourists asked if I'd seen the concessionaire or heard him shouting for me to get out of the canyon. I said no, but would go back to look for him. I met him after slogging through a torrential downpour to near where the first ladder was. He appeared happy to see me and said "didn't you hear me yelling for you to get out? If you'd been there 10 more minutes, we would have been fishing your body out of Lake Powell in the morning." I thought he was being overly dramatic until I could see the water blasting through the canyon below our feet. Everything I'd read was right….you DON'T want to be in a slot canyon when it's raining.
I made it out and got some marvelous shots, but 2 weeks later, a group of tourists and their guide got caught in the canyon during a rainstorm and were swept to their deaths. 2 years later one of the bodies had never been found, a terrible testament to the power of a flash flood in a slot canyon. Sometimes it's much better to be lucky than good.
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