Rick Canham: Limited Edition Photographs

GRAND CANYON and ZION in WINTER
January 2010

It has become a pattern of behavior for me to avoid National Parks during peak seasons. They are so crowded now, and people in large numbers are so vexing when a wilderness experience is desired. Portland can be a bit of a dreary place in January, so I made a few calls to ascertain whether there was room for me at Phantom Ranch. There was not, so permits for camping were obtained, and off I went. There were a fair number of people on the trails, and at the bottom, but it was definitely not crowded. In three days of hiking from my camp on Bright Angel Creek, I saw only a handful of others. It was certainly a peaceful and solitary adventure.

Lots of work, though, too. It's ten miles down the Bright Angel trail, and the last two are flat along the river. That equates to almost 1000' of elevation loss per mile. My quads were feeling it. The first couple miles were icy and treacherous, and after that, just steep. Most of this route is inside a deep bowl, and views of the surrounding terrain are cropped by its depth. When I came out several days later, I used the South Kaibab trail .. shorter by almost four miles, way more steep, but also on top of the ridges the entire route up. The views were mind-boggling.

From the South Rim the canyon is enormous; I think they say it's about six air miles across, maybe ten at the widest point. For some reason, seeing its vastness from the top had an effect on me that was not so huge as walking its vertical walls. Likewise, experiencing it from river-level as I did several years ago was not nearly as moving as the placing of my feet on each of the layers of sandstone, shale, limestone and schist. This was like walking into the bowels of the earth, seeing its geologic history laid at my feet, one layer at a time. In this area of the Canyon, the exposed Vishnu schist at the bottom is among the oldest exposed rock on earth, nearly half as old as the earth itself. The first layer of sediments, the Tapeats Sandstone, is roughly 1.5 billion years younger. That interface represents a billion and a half years of missing geology ! On and on it goes: bands of purple, pink, yellow, orange, and blue. Of course, the huge void that is the Canyon itself represents material that has been ground up and carried to the ocean by the river, where it is making new layers of rock as we speak. I have read that the Colorado carries away nearly 400,000 TONS of silt every DAY !

This was a cold journey, made all the more so because I forgot to take a hat. Do not forget your hat. In January, of course, the sun is low on the southern horizon, and the big ditch is 5000 feet deep, so there was never any sunlight except near the top. One of the rangers told me that the California Condors, who I had encountered on my trip down the river, have been leaving the Canyon in winter to go hang out near Zion. Seems they have discovered the flocks of sheep in the area, and of course, not all lambs survive their first winter. I had only one day for Zion this trip, and chose a trail that was new to me: up to Hidden Canyon and most of the way up to Observation Point. My start was late, so I have to return to see this perspective from the top. I saw enough to motivate me to do that.

FOUR CORNERS ... Chaco Canyon, Mesa Verde, Capitol Reef, and the Escalante
September - October 2009

This was a somewhat fragmented adventure, spread among three weeks before and after art events in Albuquerque, Dallas, and Sedona. I had never been to Chaco Canyon before, nor Mesa Verde. Both of these places, as well as the hundreds of other sites in the Southwest, contain amazing cultural and architectural history of the Pueblo civilization which was thriving here on a roughly parallel level to civilizations in Asia and Europe, about 1000 years ago. The volume of new information and new theories formed by archeologists and historians, just since my anthropology study in college, is huge. Among the issues that I grew up with, and has since been met with disfavor, is the notion that the cliff dwellings were primarily defensive, and the "Anasazai" disappeared due to aggression from neighbors, most likely the Navajo. Not true, it turns out, and the actual matter makes a much better story.

The cliff dwellings were chosen most likely for the shelter the overhangs provided, and for water sources. Springs are still very active at each of the major sites, and in fact, the conservators of the sites actually pipe the water away from the dwellings to prevent damage from erosion. Virtually all of the Great Houses of Chaco culture, and the cliff dwellings of Mesa Verde and Chinle were abandoned by 1250 to 1300. The Navajo did not show up in the Southwest until over 200 years later. The migration to the east and south, near the Rio Grande River, was likely due to several severe drought years, and a fair dose of soil depletion due to destructive farming practices. Archeologists have identified a population explosion near the Rio Grande at the same time the great communities farther west and north were abandoned. The "Anasazai" peoples became the tribes we currently know as Pueblo, Zuni, Hopi, and other smaller groups. The Navajo are direct descendants of the Athabascans of Alaska and coastal Canada. They are not related directly nor recently to the Pueblo peoples.

An impressive network of engineered roadways have recently been discovered from aerial photographs, linking Chaco Canyon, the apparent cultural center, to the dozens of other great houses in the four cardinal directions. The archeological sites outside the canyon are scattered throughout NW New Mexico, and SW Colorado. Within the canyon there are about a dozen great houses that have been partially excavated, and there are dozens more that have been left undisturbed. Over two visits to the canyon, I hiked all of the trails and visited the excavated ruins. It was a very moving experience.

Mesa Verde in SW Colorado is similar culturally to Chaco, but quite different architecturally. Here, Pueblo people chose overhangs among the sandstone cliffs to provide shelter, and built their communities underneath. Agriculture was done on the mesas above. The timeline of the habitation and migration away is approximately the same as for Chaco, and the hundreds of other Pueblo communities found throughout the Four Corners region.

At the end of these three art events, after Sedona, I visited the Escalante Canyons in southern Utah. On prior visits to the region, I had inquired among Park Service folks what the road was like that goes from Big Water, over the Kaiparowits Plateau, to the little town of Escalante. Their response was always, "Don't do it ! Go around, use the highway". And, previously, I always had taken their advice. This time, I rented one of those high-clearance big four-wheel drive vehicles, and decided to tackle this road. Count this among the many things in life which I do not need to do again. It's about 90 miles long, steep, rocky, sometimes washed out, and often frightening. It took me nearly six hours to negotiate it. Anyhow, hiking in the Escalante canyons was the objective, and I did several memorable ones. Deer Creek was the first, then down to Upper Calf Creek Falls and up the Escalante River, and another day, down Hole-in-the-Rock road to hike Willow Gulch, then on the final day, down the River from near town for several miles.

The canyons of this region, at least the ones I've seen so far, are deep and very wide. As a consequence, there are a lot of sand and soil deposits, and a lot of brush. The width makes the light a little less interesting to me, than say, the canyons of Zion, which are narrow and much deeper. And way less brushy. So, on this trip, no photographs of the Escalante. I did, however, make one in Chaco which I am very pleased with.

NEPAL and LO MANTHANG
September - October 2006

After spending a couple days in Kathmandu doing tourist things in this crowded and very polluted city, we flew to Pokhara, the second largest city in Nepal, for one night, then to Jomosom over a pass between the Annapurna and the Dualagiri ranges. As we crossed the pass, the terrain below changed immediately from green to brown and arid. The region is part of the Tibetan plateau, on the ancient Salt route between China and India. Very reminiscent of Nevada, until you gain some altitude and can see the vastness of it. This "kingdom" of Lo Manthang was a separate entity until sometime in the 1970’s, and westerners have only been able to visit since the ‘90’s. Many times it was apparent that we were novelties, especially among the children. My traveling companions were all British, friends of friends of a woman who I met in the Grand Canyon in 2005. It was a good group, and I was the oldest, as well as the only one who pronounced the King’s English properly.

We covered about 150 miles in 13 or 14 days on foot. There were four Sherpas, two guides, several porters, one cook, and six mules. As we left Jomosom, we basically entered a culture of a couple centuries ago. There were no power lines, no telephones, no vehicles save an occasional old tractor, no infrastructure of any kind. Some villages had small solar panels to power a flourescent bulb at night. Cooking is done on dung fires. Most of the time we were between 10,000 and 12,000’ elevation. We slept on the ground usually in livestock stables, and bathed in a half-liter of water each morning. Our diet was primarily vegetarian, with an occasional bit of chicken. No beef in Nepal. Villages we stayed in were named Kagbeni, Chuksang, Chele, Samar, Ghemi, Tsarang, Dhakmar, and Muktinath. Had three days of hanging around Lo Manthang (Mustang). The trails were constant up and down, there being no level ground in the Himalaya. Rode horses one day, checking out ancient caves that no one knows exactly the purpose of. We rode almost to Tibet. I didn’t make a photograph for the first three or four days. It became obvious to me that the people were going to be my major focus. I had read somewhere that not everyone appreciated having their photograph taken, so I learned how to ask their permission in Nepalese. About half of the time, the response was, "No, please do not".

We were immersed in Tibetan culture from the beginning of the trek, though officially inside Nepalese borders. The people were gracious and welcoming. They are beautiful, with quick smiles, perfect teeth, and gorgeous features. They look you in the eye, smile, then say "Namaste", which is translated as "I salute the god in you". The genetic connection between these Tibetans and our plains Indians and the Inuit of the arctic is really apparent. All engaged in subsistence agriculture, all harvesting done by hand, sometimes with the help of horses. Buddhist shrines everywhere, prayer flags on every mountain pass (we must have crossed a dozen or more) and cris-crossing every village, classrooms full of young monks chanting, cows freely roaming wherever they want. It’s illegal to kill a cow in Nepal, even though cows are sacred only to the Hindus. That’s another thing that really endeared me to these folks : Hindus and Buddhists are totally cool with each other, in fact they often worship in each other’s temples, stupas, monasteries. The attitude seems to be, close is good enough ! Ask a person which religion is his, and he will most likely respond, "Actually, I’m a little of both".

From our camp in Muktinath one day, several of us climbed up to Thorung La, an 18,000’ pass between the Annapurnas and the Dualagiris. Our ascent was 5000’, equivalent to our typical Mt Hood climbs. Major difference was the previous day’s tough walk and climb to a 14k pass, and the altitude. It was a tough day, and the highest one can get in the Himalayas without being part of a major climb. I had twisted a knee a couple days before, but the Sherpas were very competent in their treatment of my injury, and others’ sicknesses. I would recommend this adventure to anyone who has good feet, strong legs, and a desire to visit a third-world Buddhist culture.

In the words of His Holiness the Dalai Lama, "The rugged landscape of the region and the challenges of the climate make conditions for transport difficult. Consequently, the region has been slower to change than elsewhere. The people who live there place much less importance on time than the inhabitants of the teeming cities in other parts of the world. Taking a patient, unhurried approach to life is a natural part of the local character. …I have observed throughout the Himalayas that people are mild-mannered, easily contented, satisfied with whatever conditions are available, and resilient in the face of hardship. The rigors of climate and environment contribute to this, but another significant factor has been the Buddhist culture that has flourished in the region for more than a thousand years. Himilayan people seem to have an unusually well developed sense of inner peace and hope. I am convinced that our Buddhist heritage, with its teachings of love, kindness, and tolerance, has contributed to this, especially the notion that all things are relative and impermanent."

CLIMBING 14'ers in COLORADO
August 2006

The best thing I could think to do to prepare for the altitude and physical demands of the Himalaya was to hang out in Frisco, Colorado for a week at 9000', and climb 13 or 14 thousand foot peaks every day. There are many to choose from a short drive from Frisco, and most are day hikes.

I'm noticing that more and more of my adventures do not result in photographs. A little disappointing perhaps, but it's true that light and other conditions are not always conducive. And with every year, I get more fussy about what I want to shoot. The Hasselblad was with me every day, but light and inspiration were lacking. It was still a great week.

The first two days were spent on long conditioning hikes, up to 12,000' or so. First was into Salmon and Willow Lakes, and day two was a long trek up to Eccles Pass, and back around Buffalo Mountain to Frisco. The view from Eccles Pass is stunning. This is a place I would like to return to photograph, but spend a couple days.

On the third day I climbed to the top of Buffalo Mountain, about 13,000' high. The next day was Quandary Peak, up to 14,200'. Over the last couple thousand feet, there was an ominous black sky off to the southwest. I kept trying to convince myself that it was on a track to the north of my mountain. Not the case, however. Just short of the summit, lightning began striking all over the area, and I encountered a couple women literally running downhill. One stopped for a moment, and I casually inquired, "Well, whaddaya think ?" Her response, "I think you will make a very good lightning rod. Though your rubber soles may dull the pain a bit." I took her sarcasm to heart, and turned to follow them, but I couldn't run as fast downhill. Soon the wind and hail started, and all of a sudden I was literally in winter conditions in August ! The hail was almost ankle deep.

Mount Elbert was the next day. This is the second highest peak in the lower 48 states at 14,400', and Mt Whitney in the Sierras of California is somewhat higher. This was a good long slog, and my old body is starting to whine a little. About a thousand feet short of the summit, I ran into Dave and Michelle from New Hampshire who were about to turn around. We decided to continue on as a committee, and had a fine climb. The summit view was gorgeous, and in conversation it was determined that we shared affinity for a well-brewed IPA. That was good motivation for the very long descent, and we enjoyed a couple pints in Leadville at the highest brew pub in the country.

ZION NATIONAL PARK
October 2005

GRAND CANYON on the COLORADO RIVER
April - May 2005

I made a commitment to myself a few years ago to start seriously crossing things off the list. It's easy to add them, and there they sit, year after year. Then all of a sudden, you're old and cranky, and your body parts start to fail. So, I picked dates, hooked up with an organizer from Seattle who focuses on hiking the side canyons, and off we went. The professional outfitter was Hatch, and their crew of four who organized meals, hikes, and guided the three huge rafts were amazing, memorable people.

From the beginning at Lee's Ferry just below Glen Canyon Dam to the end in Lake Mead our trip was over 300 miles, in 12 days. The rafts had small outboard motors which were hugely helpful navigating thru the rapids, and allowing for movement downriver to the next hike. We camped on sand bars most nights, though two were spent on solid rock. Every day were hikes of varying length, ones for serious trekkers, more moderate ones, and hikes for being mostly lazy in the sun.

Among the most memorable events of the trip, on day one, we saw probably ten California Condors near the mouth of the Paria River. Later that day on a hike, I was at eye level with one, soaring up the canyon that I was traversing. It was one of the few times on the trip that I was alone. What a treat to see these magnificent birds thriving here. On one of the nights we camped on bedrock during a storm. Only found-rocks and our body weight kept our tents up. In the middle of the night there was an awful sound of rockfall right above our heads. I was sure that some of us would be squished, but no. And one of the finest places on earth is Havasu Creek, all of its 12 miles from the mouth up to the village of Supai. The amazing turquoise water and travertine deposits have to be seen to be believed. Every turn of the creek is another potential photograph.

This was the first time in my life of wilderness tripping to be part of a group. Among the things I had to give up was the ability to stop and set up the Hasselblad whenever I wanted. So, as the days progressed, it became obvious that I had to choose between big hikes among a constantly moving group, or more time to drift about in solitude making photographs. I got a little of both.

This is a perfect adventure for anyone with interest in the geologic history of the earth. One is allowed to see and touch rock that is 3 billion years old. There is one side creek that exposes the Great Discontinuity, where the sediments on top of the exposed schist are 1.5 billion years younger than the bedrock. One and a half billion years of missing geology !

The sheer immensity of the ditch is almost incomprehensible. The forces required to carve the Grand Canyon are difficult for my simple mind to wrap around. But it's clear then also that this planet has always been engaged in the processes of formation, destruction, putting a river here, an ocean there, filling same with ground up rock, burying, compressing, uplifting new mountain ranges, cutting them with rivers, washing them back out to sea, forming new sediments. Over and over, force it up, wash it away. You would think we would accept our presence here with a little more grace, a little more humility. A lot more respect.