Rising up above the valley floor outside of Cortez Colorado onto the towering bluff of Mesa Verde, it’s easy to get distracted by the view of the southern Rockies to the northeast. The towering snow-covered peaks beckon, trying to pull wanderers like myself deeper into their midst. Climbing up the winding road into Mesa Verde at sunrise, I found my gaze continuously drawn to the amazing sunrise, and the looming shadow of a late spring storm descending on the mountains. It was one of the most spectacular vistas I’ve ever come across, and as a result, I arrived at my intended destination far later than I’d planned.
Rising up above the valley floor outside of Cortez Colorado onto the towering bluff of Mesa Verde, it’s easy to get distracted by the view of the southern Rockies to the northeast. The towering snow-covered peaks beckon, trying to pull wanderers like myself deeper into their midst. Climbing up the winding road into Mesa Verde at sunrise, I found my gaze continuously drawn to the amazing sunrise, and the looming shadow of a late spring storm descending on the mountains. It was one of the most spectacular vistas I’ve ever come across, and as a result, I arrived at my intended destination far later than I’d planned.
One of the benefits in becoming as familiar with Zion National Park as I have become over the past half decade is the fact that I can go to the park and not feel the need to constantly chase new sights or places I haven’t seen. On my last real trip to the park in November of 2014, I spent two weeks hiking familiar and unfamiliar trails and generally wandering the park freely, as the winter chill had emptied the park of most of its crowds, allowing me the peace of exploring at my own pace in my own manner.
One of the benefits in becoming as familiar with Zion National Park as I have become over the past half decade is the fact that I can go to the park and not feel the need to constantly chase new sights or places I haven’t seen. On my last real trip to the park in November of 2014, I spent two weeks hiking familiar and unfamiliar trails and generally wandering the park freely, as the winter chill had emptied the park of most of its crowds, allowing me the peace of exploring at my own pace in my own manner.
The view over Bryce Canyon at sunrise is truly a special sight, as the first light of the day shines across the distant plateaus of the Grand Staircase and illuminates the high walls and towering hoodoos of the Faerieland Amphitheater. Crowds in the hundreds are known to assemble at the accurately named Sunrise point to watch the spectacle, and with good reason. Of all the places I’ve watched sunrises, Bryce Canyon is one of the best.
The view over Bryce Canyon at sunrise is truly a special sight, as the first light of the day shines across the distant plateaus of the Grand Staircase and illuminates the high walls and towering hoodoos of the Faerieland Amphitheater. Crowds in the hundreds are known to assemble at the accurately named Sunrise point to watch the spectacle, and with good reason. Of all the places I’ve watched sunrises, Bryce Canyon is one of the best.
One of the great challenges that I find as I travel and advance my photography career, is fighting the ever-present threat of desensitization to the beauty of the places I go and photograph. It hasn’t happened yet, though I’ve felt it creeping in, in amazingly beautiful places that I’ve been to several times, or seen in countless photos from other artists I admire. There are certain places that seem almost over-shot, places that you’ve seen countless times online or as prints in galleries, and so seeing them in person loses some of its luster, and photographing them almost becomes a chore. I’ve seen it in other photographers, arriving at a spot just to shoot it and get it over with, the passion and spark that led them to chasing those shots in the first place replaced with irritation at the process of capturing it.
One of the great challenges that I find as I travel and advance my photography career, is fighting the ever-present threat of desensitization to the beauty of the places I go and photograph. It hasn’t happened yet, though I’ve felt it creeping in, in amazingly beautiful places that I’ve been to several times, or seen in countless photos from other artists I admire. There are certain places that seem almost over-shot, places that you’ve seen countless times online or as prints in galleries, and so seeing them in person loses some of its luster, and photographing them almost becomes a chore. I’ve seen it in other photographers, arriving at a spot just to shoot it and get it over with, the passion and spark that led them to chasing those shots in the first place replaced with irritation at the process of capturing it.
Sunrises over Crater Lake are always dramatic, but when the smoke from nearby wildfires obscured the sun during my visit there in September of 2015, I was treated to this remarkable scene across the lake. As damaging and dangerous as wildfires can be, I love the way they impact the light of the rising and setting sun.
Sunrises over Crater Lake are always dramatic, but when the smoke from nearby wildfires obscured the sun during my visit there in September of 2015, I was treated to this remarkable scene across the lake. As damaging and dangerous as wildfires can be, I love the way they impact the light of the rising and setting sun.
Photography by J.R. Robinson 