About 6 months before our trip, I got an e-mail from Ann asking, “Have you ever heard of Candyland?” She’d been sending me possible locations to stop at on our trip and, at first, I thought this was just another one that we’d check out, put on a list and not think much more about once we’d given it a good look. But that night as I was making dinner, Ann pulled up the website where she’d seen images and I realized that this place was a bit different. “Where is it?” “Apparently somewhere near St. George, Utah.” “We should check it out.”

And we did. As we found out, the place is actually called Yant Flat, but you can see why they call it candy land. You know those candy machines you see along the boardwalk, folding candy that forms pink and white stripes until eventually it all gets put on a tray to harden? Well, think of that, except they left the candy folded on itself to harden. Oh yeah, and done on a geologic scale. That was our destination!

Getting to Yant Flat requires hiking across the flat for a bit over a mile, which isn’t exactly flat and has ever-changing conditions beneath your feet - rocks, sand, soil - which made us thankful for a couple of things. First, that we hadn’t tried spending the night at one of my alternative locations that would have had us land-navigating across county instead of taking the trail. And second, that we had waited until pre-dawn to hike the trail. We don’t mind hiking in the dark, but only if we’ve done it before. While the trail itself wasn’t terribly difficult, it had its spots where watching where your feet went was necessary. Camping about a mile away from the trail head helped us time things pretty well and we arrived at the edge of the flat right as the sun topped the horizon.

And after a couple of minutes, this was the view.

As you can see better in the picture below, the flat drops down onto a sloping roller-coaster type landscape, which drops off a cliff into a valley, with the far side of the valley off in the distance.

We knew we weren’t in the main area of Yant Flat, but couldn’t help but get some early morning images, if for no other reason than to simply quell our excitement. There weren’t many people there (a few had camped out and surely had gotten lovely images in the pre-dawn light), but the stray group was already coming (more on that later) not long after we’d arrived.

I found my way around and then down into an area Ann and I could easily (read: safely) get to without pretending too much to be billy goats. After the several hundred foot descent, this is what it looked like looking back up.

Fortunately, slick rock isn’t slick. At least when it’s dry it’s not.

To say that this place is an abstract wonderland is an understatement. Even with the fairly harsh morning sunlight, it was still possible to make mind-puzzling images.

But I tried to make sure I didn’t get fixated on one type of image and looked to make a range of photographs, to include images of the grander landscape.

Though that didn’t mean I ignored the obvious compositions in front of me.

One might say the place is easy to make interesting photographs in, but there were difficulties. The rock is hard (and hard on an aging body) and the elevation changes are surprisingly strenuous, and then there was the increasingly bright sun. But really, that was the easy stuff to overcome.

The hard part was the people. People? What people you might say. I don’t see any people in the photographs? Well . . . about 20 minutes after we arrived, we heard three very loud voices approaching and just chatting away. We were still up high at the time and they passed by and headed on down the hill (which is why I knew there must be a route down somewhere off to our left). A few minutes later I saw them walking up the high mound to the right of the photograph below to climb to the top of it. Which didn’t seem surprising to me because the view from the top of it must have been spectacular.

And then it came. First was the Tibetan bell. I can appreciate a bit of spirituality and, to be honest, it was a lovely sound in such a beautiful place. Then came the yoga instructions, one move, after another, after another. Ok, . . . folks wanting to access their inner Qi/Chi/Ki or whatever you wish to call it in a natural setting. Then, in-between sets (what do you call groups of yoga movements) on came the boom box with . . . Alanis Morrisette - Jagged Little Pill. For those of you who do not know who she is (to be honest, I like the album, but . . .) let’s just say that Jagged Little Pill is not a calming, peaceful album. More like angry and aggressive. Then off with the boom box and more shouted yoga movements. Then the boom box with Indian Bollywood music, back to yoga, with the periodic chanting, to be followed by Alanis again (the good thing one could say about tape players was that when you started it back up again, you weren’t starting with the same song you did the last time, and the time before that, and the time before that. The boom box was not a cassette deck.)

Apparently there were two of them doing yoga and sun worshipping while a third guy videotaped them.

Ok, put it out of your mind and concentrate on being in a beautiful place photographing, at least until Alanis comes along again. (I don’t mean to pick on her, but given the place we were at . . . .).

After a long while the videographer comes trotting down the hill and quickly climbs up towards the flat (oh to be young and able to move like that again). All was fine and dandy until . . . wheeeeeeeeeeee, the sound of a drone. You have to be kidding me. Yup, the guy is flying a drone around the pinnacle to videotape the yoga folks.

Ok, forget about Alanis, tone the drone out of your mind while you work.

Then along comes another group of people towards the rim of the flat right as the guy finishes his drone adventures.

Nothing against New Yorkers, but it was obvious where these folks were from because they sounded just like our friend Dan from Brooklyn. Except a lot louder, and without the west coast ease that someone develops (even New Yorkers like Dan) after being out west for a long time. Yap, yap, yap.

Coming down the hill they were talking to the videographer and praising his creativity. As they pass by us the videographer walks over to us. He’s a young guy and he says, “Sorry about the drone, but these folks are yoga professionals and they’ve asked me to film them. I just had to pull out all the stops with this kind of opportunity.” I’d just finished saying, “Thanks. I understand, I’ve been there before . . .” When the woman with the group said, “Why are you apologizing, what you did isn’t illegal!” The guy looked at me with his eyes bulging in apology and I said, “Don’t worry about it, I hope you got some good stuff.”

So in-between the blasts of Jagged Little Pill every 15 minutes or so, we had a non-stop yakety yak of New Yorkers who didn’t realize that there was no reason for them to yell - the place was an echo chamber. Just listen to the yoga folks reciting their positions, or chatting in-between sets - I doubt they were yelling at each other. I was having difficulties toning out all the ruckus; Ann wasn’t faring so well. At least not by the black cloud looming around her head formed by the smoke coming out of her ears and nostrils.

So yeah, there were difficulties. But we kept working.

Taking our time at the one location allowed us to explore the place and to find interesting pieces of life in what seemed at first a barren rock.

And there were landscapes within the landscape.

Both looking into and outward from the flat.

Ann and I kept photographing until the sun got so high it really started washing out the colors in the rock. It was time to stop. And the best part of working so hard for so long? Both the yoga folks and the visiting New Yorkers had left and we finally, after 5-1/2 hours, could sit down, enjoy the beauty of the place and just listen to the wind!

The climb back up and then back to Beast was not easy. By the time we arrived, we were tired, sore, hot and hungry. So we headed back to where we spent the previous night and got lucky - no one had taken our spot. So I parked Beast in exactly the same spot - amazingly, level on the rocks - and we got cleaned up and made dinner.

Discussing our options, we decided not to try to do Yant Flat again (though upon looking at the images, I could see going back). So we decided that the next morning we’d go down to an area we’d checked out on our way in (the campground was full) and keep our fingers crossed that folks would be clearing out on a Sunday morning. Until then, there was nothing to do but hit the sack early because we both felt as old as we look.

We woke up at our usual hour - well before sunrise and headed down the steep road back and, given the early hour, headed over to a wonderful cafe in Hurricane for breakfast. Still fairly early, we headed back to the Red Cliffs National Conservation Area, almost due east of where we were the day before, but this time on the lower portion of the landscape.

We’d stopped here on our way to Yant Flat, planning on staying if any camp sites were available (they were not given it was a Friday) and had done a short hike to check out some Anasazi ruins on one of the lower hilltops overlooking the entire valley that faces towards Zion. We were hoping that if we returned on Sunday, we’d find a spot.

Well we did. Not only did we nab the first spot that cleared out, the people in an even better spot just across the way said they were leaving in a bit and we could have theirs! So Ann and I went on another hike to check out petrified dinosaur tracks and to soak in the views again.

My main reason for wanting to visit this location is the trail into Water Canyon. So once we got settled in and had lunch, we headed up the canyon for a good look-see, not expecting much given the contrasty light conditions, but you never know.

We took our sweet time making our way up the canyon. For as many photographs as we made, the results should have been better. But then again, we knew the conditions weren’t the best. Still, it was a beautiful place to explore and taking our time meant we found nice little aspects of the place that I suspect all the folks rushing into and then out of the canyon just didn’t notice. Also, it gave us a good feel for the place and the opportunities that might be present the next morning.

At one point a young couple passed us by (on a road trip from the Bay Area) and we got to chatting about photography. They asked us where we’d been and we told them about the longer trip, and the visit to Yant Flat the day before, suggesting they check it out. And about an hour later, we were probably only a quarter mile farther down the trail and they were on their way back. “You guys don’t rush it do you?” “Nope, we’re photographing, not hiking. So if there’s a photograph to be made, you stop.” “That’s the way it should be.” We chatted a bit more about things and they were on their way.

As the afternoon wore on, we made it farther into the canyon as it rose in elevation following the stream that runs through it.

And eventually it narrowed to not-quite slot dimensions, but where the walls were certainly shaped by the stream when it runs high.

And Ann and I just kept photographing.

02-Red Cliffs-4.jpg

The trail ended not too much farther - at least for us it did. There were a couple of ledges that would have lovely falls if the water was running a bit faster. One I easily climbed up, but the other required navigating along foot holes cut into the steep walls to get around a narrow section - something we were not willing to try doing with our camera gear. So we turned around.

On the way back down we stopped at an incredible fallen tree that frustrated both Ann and me to no end. Sometimes you can’t get an overall photograph of an incredible thing. So I got in close.

And just played with what the tree had to offer.

It really was an amazing tree.

We headed back for a good dinner and an early rise because we knew we were heading back up the trail first thing in the morning.

The pre-dawn light in Water Canon was splendid. The canyon faces south-east, so even before the sun rose above the horizon, it was casting both a glow and shadows along the undulating canyon walls. We didn’t hike very far before we started making our first photographs.

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First it was one side of the canyon,

then the other. Some things I’d see in black and white,

others in color.

And some things I saw in both.

The pre-dawn light was luscious! We were glad we took advantage of it because once the sun topped the horizon it was like a train struck the landscape and everything became harsh and aggressive.

So we made our way further into the canyon, stopping for the occasional image, but usually being thwarted by the sun. Eventually we made it into the twists and turns that blocked the sunlight and things became manageable again.

Even though we’d just photographed here the afternoon before, everything seemed anew. That was due, in large part, to the heavy winds we’d had over night. The best part about the winds? It had blown away all the footprints in the sand!

It was still fairly early by normal people’s time, so we were the only ones out. So Ann and I were very careful about where we walked until we were sure there were no more photographs to be made from our location and it was time to advance forward.

Since we were really meticulous about advancing, we took our time, and that gave me the opportunity to see compositions in addition to broader images.

In fact, the detail images seemed to be the ones I found the most interesting. Why does that not surprise me?

And the sculpted rocks in the narrower passages had much to offer.

The light was interesting given that it was the result of early morning sunlight hitting one wall, and then bouncing off other walls. It gave a sense of diffuse and directional lighting at the same time, which increased as the sun rose and more light bounced off the walls.

And the geology of the place offered seemingly endless opportunities.

In these instances all you can do is try to slow down and make good images. But sometimes it’s hard to tell how to best photograph a fascinating feature.

So you make as many images of it as you can until you’re confident you’ve got something.

But all good things must come to an end. After having been out photographing for a few hours, the first hikers started coming down the trail. There went the smooth sand - not that I took full advantage of that, though Ann did, which made the hikers unfortunate.

So we settled on making a few last images to make sure we were confident that we’d photographed what we could of this place.

And fortunately, we didn’t rush things. Because sometimes you just need to be in a place for awhile for the less obvious images to reveal themselves.

Finally, it was time to head back down the trail.

The morning sun seemed brutal with the clear skies - especially compared to the diffuse light we’d just been in or the lovely pre-dawn light we enjoyed initially. So we didn’t really stop for any photographs on the way back, though we did find the most bizarre looking bug on the trail. To me it looked like a hybrid of a grasshopper’s head, a scorpion’s legs and a bee’s back end. Ann later found out it was actually a cricket. But what a cricket!

We’d had a great morning photographing, so enjoying the hike back to Beast through Wash Canyon wasn’t the worst possible thing that could happen!

The next part of our trip was part of the planned itinerary - Snow Canyon. We had reservations at the campground and the campground had showers. And any day you get a shower is a good day!

Phase 4 - Of Flats, Cliffs, Canyons and Domes Part 1

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Phase 4 - Of Flats, Cliffs, Canyons and Domes Part 1

Phase 4 - Of Flats, Cliffs, Canyons and Domes Part 2

Phase 3 - Winging It. Part 2

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