Bringing Rain to the Desert

Perhaps it was fate. During the first week of January, we left cold, rainy Seattle behind for some Las Vegas sun. The desert city had not had any rain for 116 days, and for a few more pleasant days, the dry spell continued. Then the clouds arrived, and by our last day there was so much rain that the streets were flooding and our flight out was delayed. But, you work with what you have, so that’s what we did.

 

Rain and mist have drained the color from Red Rock Canyon

 

Besides the vagaries of weather and fate, travel photography has been on my mind – no wonder! It has its own pitfalls, doesn’t it?  We take pictures to document our experience, and for many of us, to share it later online. That can create pressure to perform, which in turn can dilute our ability to fully enjoy the experience itself. There can be many layers of removal from feeling alive in the moment when you travel. There you were, in the dry desert, gazing at scenery that was stunning, amazing, and just plain beautiful. You know that you appreciated the sights, but can you remember what you heard, smelled, touched or felt?

Chances are, I can’t tell you very much about the moment I took any of the photos below. Time has passed since I took them, of course. I may have been a bit sleep-deprived at the time. And that wonderful little black box, the one that helps me make images and memories, it tends to get in the way. No doubt, an insistent inner voice urged me to make the best pictures I possibly could, and reminded me that I only had one day there, I may never come back and even if I did, the light wouldn’t be the same, etc. etc. A perfect recipe for dulling the experience! Even the changes I make to my photographs later – the choices to highlight, sharpen edges, soften color, crop, whatever – can put distance between me and the original experience.

So we’re at a remove when we photograph our world, and sometimes more so when we’re traveling. That realization could call the whole process into question, but I haven’t given up on it.

I just wanted to note the pitfalls before diving in.

 

 

Three views from the plane, taken as we approached Las Vegas. You can see how bare the earth is. The body of water is Lake Mead, created in the 1930’s by damming the Colorado River, to provide hydroelectric power and water for agriculture in nearby California. The dam made it possible for Las Vegas to bloom straight out of that rocky soil.

Red Rock Canyon, from the highway

We landed in Las Vegas with enough time for a quick run over to Red Rock Canyon, a beautiful national conservation area that’s only 15 miles from the center of town. The sandstone mountains and canyons are popular for hiking and rock climbing. The land supports desert bighorn sheep and a destructive, if cute population of non-native wild burros. We heard most of the burros were in another area so sadly, we didn’t see any.

As the winter sun sunk behind the mountains, we made a few stops on the side of the road to drink in the desert landscape, then headed back to our hotel in Las Vegas.

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The contrast between the Mohave desert’s spare beauty and the incessant chaos of lights and noise that is Las Vegas hit me hard. I imagine the locals are used to the abrupt shift from the quiet, monochrome desert landscape to the gaudy, blaring city. It was difficult to comprehend how such a place, with its extreme investment in artifice, rose out of what is probably the most subtle landscape I’ve ever seen.

Nighttime in Las Vegas

 

The view out the hotel window, 26th floor

On our first full day we explored Valley Of Fire State Park – more about that later. The next two days we spent seeing a so-called ghost town, and driving over to Death Valley. We planned to spend one more day in Death Valley, but after almost three months without precipitation, it seems we brought the rain from Seattle to southern Nevada. There is precious little shelter in Death Valley. The monochromatic landscape was likely to be even grayer in the rain, so we decided to return to Red Rock Canyon, where we’d be closer to civilization and have the benefit of some tree cover. These photos are from our day at Red Rock Canyon, a day that started out partly cloudy but ended fully misty.

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Red Rock Canyon Photos:

  1. Mt. Wilson, elev. 7070 ft./2155 m., is about 25 miles by road from Las Vegas.  Want to try climbing it? Here are directions, from Backpacker magazine. Just out of sight is Blue Diamond Hill, a privately owned parcel of land at the edge of the conservation area. The owners want to build a 5,000 home development there. The largest gypsum mine in the state is just down the road; BDGH Gypsum makes agricultural gypsum and wallboard at a large plant there. The 5,000 home development is opposed by locals for a host of reasons, from increased traffic and light at night (the area outside Las Vegas boasts very dark night skies) to the possibility of houses falling into mine sinkholes.
  2. This landscape is interesting in any weather, with so many different textures and shapes. Adding to the plethora of patterns in the rocks here, is a group of Mohave yucca plants (Yucca schidigera), whose stark silhouettes dot the desert floor. Southern Paiute people used yucca extensively, making food, clothing, baskets, soap and other useful things from all of its parts.
  3. A desert wash at Willow Springs, where pink and gold rocks glow, even on a dreary winter day.
  4. Four close-ups of interesting sandstone patterns at Willow Springs.
  5. Numerous sandstone crevices have created microclimates for plants to grow in; note all the shrubs nestled in cracks and crannies, where extra moisture collects, and there may be a bit of shade on summer days, when temperatures can reach 110° F/44° C in summer.
  6. The rocks are beautiful to look at, and yield their secrets slowly. Recently, dinosaur tracks were identified in the rocks in a remote part of Red Rock Canyon.
  7. After much searching I think this is the Three-leaf sumac (Rhus triloba), aka Skunkbush. Those tightly packed buds will bloom into little yellow flowers in Spring. The berries that develop later are supposedly edible but tart. Indigenous people used the twigs in basketmaking (see the second paragraph).
  8. Raindrops on the Tulip prickly pear cactus (Opuntia phaeacantha). There are four species of prickly pear cactus at Red Rock.
  9. The distinctive stems of Ephedra have draped over a prickly pear pad at surprisingly lush Willow Springs. This is probably E. viridis, or Mormon tea, used for medicinal teas. The important drug ephedrine is derived from a related Asian Ephedra species, E. sinica, which has been used in traditional Chinese medicine for over 2000 years. Maybe the local Ephedra plant was used that long ago too, but since knowledge was transmitted verbally by indigenous people, records are sparse.
  10. Buckhorn cholla cactus (Cylindropuntia acanthocarpa), one of several cholla cacti that thrive here.
  11. The Desert willow tree (Chilopsis linearis) is not a true willow, but is in the Bignonia family. It was still dropping leaves on the gravely ground at Willow Springs when we visited. The elegantly curved, straw-colored leaves contrast nicely with the wet rocks, and as the rain continued I was glad my camera is weather resistant, but at a certain point, you just need to get out of the rain!
  12. Two closeups of Mohave yucca leaves and fibers.
  13. Storm clouds hang heavy in the distance and the cacti are ready to drink up the rain. The yucca’s stiff leaves can funnel rain right down to the roots.
  14. Rain clouds conceal the mountaintop above a steep divide in the rocks.
  15. A withered old Pinyon pine tree frames a distant view. i found one pine cone on the ground that still had a few pine nuts in it so I eagerly put one in my mouth, but I should have known, it was a “dead” one – an empty nut that was nothing but hull. I’m sure the animals have eaten all of this year’s viable nuts long ago.
  16. A dried seed head stands sentinel over the view of a rocky precipice that is almost lost in the mist.

*

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the tragedy in Las Vegas three months ago, when 58 people were killed and over 500 people were injured at an outdoor concert. One man shooting a modified semi-automatic rifle from a high rise hotel room caused all that suffering. I saw “Vegas Strong” signs scattered about the city, but for the most part, the pain seemed to be buried. Later, I heard that fundraising to help families of the dead, injured and traumatized has fallen below expectations, in part due to a kind of disaster fatigue that seemed to set in after the US experienced three major hurricanes just before the shooting, and intense, destructive wildfires just after it. In any case, I wish the people who were injured and traumatized, and those who lost family and friends, a much better year in 2018, and all the help and healing that they deserve.

 

 

 

 

This entry was posted in Further Afield (travel), Nature Studies, photography, Road Trips and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

62 comments

  1. While there is some truth to the notion that getting so caught up in the technical and compositional aspects of photographing a scene that you may forget to simply enjoy it, I think the flip side can be true as well. Example: back in the 90’s I used to do a fair bit of underwater photography, mostly at the macro level. Although I don’t do U/W photos anymore (never upgraded gear to digital and haven’t been diving enough to justify it), I still find myself on dives where I tell myself, “slow down, look for the small stuff” and end up enjoying the moments more than if I were just aimlessly wandering along. I think the same concept could be applied to walking a trail; you can walk it and find it relaxing and enjoyable, but if you engage your photographer’s eye you’ll see even more – even if you aren’t carrying a camera.

    There is something jarring about a Las Vegas out in the desert. It’s kind of a symbol of what homo sapiens are doing to the planet, and why.

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    • Dave, I hear what your’e saying, and it makes sense. I suppose there’s room for both points of view. I think (but I could be wrong) that for me, the aspect that you identify as the photogrpaher’s eye came long before I ever picked up a camera. I seem to remember looking very intently at the world, especially close up, from my earliest years. That way of seeing grew and grew, leading me to art school, where I still did not do photography, except once in a while to document an outdoor piece. I started photographing with more intent only much later. But I absolutely can see how picking up a camera can open up a whole new world.
      Your idea of Las Vegas as a bigger metaphor surely resonates with me! Thanks for your thoughtful comments.

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  2. I rather enjoyed your treatment of the desert, Lynn. I’ve not participated in the landscapes that you highlighted, but have been out in the Sonora Desert enough to know the taste and feel of such an environment. Personally, I prefer the rain-drenched, or even rain-touched desert on those so very infrequent days that I find myself “out there” in and among it. I’ve addressed this before, but I admire your eye and the way you capture your images. I know that we sometimes make a photo of a larger view and then crop it down to a tighter aspect, and saying that, don’t know if that is what you have done, but the photos remain remarkable, however you went about it.

    Very nice work, Lynn…I hope you and your Joe had a great time in the desert.

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    • You have a great point, and given more time, I would have added that I was excited to see (and smell!) rain in the desert. It’s a fascinating phenomenon, and I wish I could have stayed long enough to see what the plants looked like after that soaking rain. I know it brings flowers, but besides that – the prickly pear cacti we saw at Red Rock, for example, were all wrinkled, as if they were drying up. Are they smooth now?
      Re cropping, I often crop but not usually drastically. Typically it’s more about getting distracting stuff on the edges out of the frame. The lens makes a difference, too, and some of these might look more cropped to you if you are normally using a wider lens than I do. You know I admire your landscapes very much, and thinking about it, maybe that’s it – you’re using a wider angle and getting more in – which I love. Where I live, there aren’t as many opportunities for that (I think) except on the water, so I probably have formed a habit of seeing a narrower view than you do, coming from the open landscapes of Utah & Arizona.

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      • Yes, Lynn…the flowers do come after the rains…in my experience usually in a couple of days, but maybe they arrive sooner than that…and for the prickly pear cactus fruit, I can’t answer that one, either. If there was a good drenching, I can imagine that they would have been full and smooth again.

        I, too, will crop-out the distracting things on the edges of photos, and yes, my images tend to reveal a broader aspect of the landscape…such captivating and wild openness…mountain tops and ridges…views across valleys, etc…and the lake shore. 🙂

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  3. “We take pictures to document our experience, and for many of us, to share it later online. That can create pressure to perform, which in turn can dilute our ability to fully enjoy the experience itself.”
    Oh my. Have you been reading Sontag?
    Lovely work as usual, Lynn.
    And I thank you for removing at least one step between us, the viewers, and these experiences. Perhaps that is part of what we as photographers do? We may lose some of the experience of the moment, but we gift it to the viewer? Just my thoughts.

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  4. Lovely images (despite the mist and rain). #7 & #8 have such great DOF, but the red rocks of the canyon and barren landscape are a wonderful sight for me to see as its so different to my city-dwelling life.

    I’ve only seen Las Vegas in movies and I suspect I definitely wouldn’t want to see it in real life – too much light, noise and sensory overload. I’m kinda glad you didn’t post lots of images from the city 🙂

    It’s the heart of the mountains and countryside I like seeing in blogs from other countries.

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    • Thank you Vicki….#7 & 8 were taken with a favorite lens that goes as wide open as f1.8, and they were at f2.2 and 3.2. Yes, what a contrast the desert is to the city! Sensory overload is putting it mildly for Las Vegas – it’s totally headache-inducing to anyone who’s sensitive. I too love seeing the countryside of many different lands online; it’s a treat. Visiting your country would be a treat too; I have long been curious about Australia.

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  5. Beautiful, beautiful images, Lynn. The colors, depth of field, the clouds…so rich! I have never been in the desert in winter…your photographs encourage me to try that next year. We have flown into Las Vegas as an access point into the desert a couple of times…it’s great for that but otherwise the place gives me the creeps.

    I hear the view that we dilute the travel experience by taking pictures quite often. Photography is the main reason I travel and I think I experience my surroundings far more deeply with a camera in hand than without. We all have different expectations…

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    • I feared these images were a bit dull, so I’m really pleased you like them. You have done what we did, I see. Next time I want a dose of the desert I think it will be from a different city, maybe L.A. I actually like L.A., as crazy as it is, and there’s a lot of great art to be seen there. Or maybe SLC and a drive south to southern Utah. So many possibilities.
      I appreciate what you’re saying about appreciating your surroundings more with camera in hand. There’s great enjoyment is finding images everywhere, and I didn’t mean to leave that out.

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      • I prefer “subtle” or “subdued” to dull…they’re beautiful images. We have flown into Denver, SLC, and Las Vegas each at least twice heading for some desert. My brothers usually decide and I tag along. 🙂

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  7. So sorry the rain altered your plans for the very last day, but isn’t rain in the desert a different experience than Seattle?

    Funny (not in a ha ha way) how your shot looking out of the hotel window reminded me of the tragedy you wrote about at the end. I suspect that incident was just one of many that add to the jarring energy of big cities, just one reason I avoid them. Small wonder it hit you hard. Still, there are times when they serve their purpose. I noticed at least a few comments about flying into Vegas in order to enjoy the desert.

    I agree with the folks who commented about how a photographer can ‘see’ differently with camera in hand. There can be a magic that takes place where the camera helps to put me in the ‘zone’ so to speak. Without it the experience isn’t quite the same. On the flip side or in addition there’s the slideshow I run of images from previous trips that help me relive the experience over and over. I don’t think I’ve ever felt it get in the way. If anything, when I’m seeing images in my head, I’m more immersed in the experience of being there.

    #1 immediately made the list with the pickup and the burro. The angles and lines going every which way. Followed by #2 to complete the picture without the pu and burro. Did you up the clarity? It’s very effective.
    #9 We used to pick Mormon tea in Utah, but I don’t remember the yellow stage as in your image. I recall it as being green as seen in the upper right corner. You have me wondering if it dries out like that in winter and/or my memory is slipping.
    #12 Something about putting the yucca and it’s tangle side by side told the story. Very nice.

    And most of all thanks for the memories of Red Rock Canyon! 😀

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    • Yeah, rain in the desert smells different, for starters! As I was saying above somewhere, it would have been nice to have been able to see the effects the next day, too.
      I like your description of getting that magic from having a camera in hand, that’s good to hear. Your oceanscapes show it. And certainly, the ability to relive through images is a gift. But sometimes an urgency about “getting” images can take something away from experiencing a place, I think.
      #2 actually began with an effect filter in the camera, called “Dramatic tone.” It intensifies contrast & texture and usually darkens and desaturates a little. It’s often too exaggerated but can be really useful in cloudy weather, to bring out the scene. Olympus cameras have it. There are different species called Mormon tea so the one you picked may be another one – I think I read that just one turns this golden color, I think when the stems are older. I think you’re on the right track with dryness…and age…glad you like the ycca closeups, they are always fun! I bet you’ll have numerous similar opportunities next month. Thank YOU!

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  8. These photos seem to divide into two groups: ‘I was there’ and ‘I am here’ The first group record the wider landscape and provide a visual log; the second are much more intimate and usually include vegetation close to hand. The two reflect different types of experience and different levels of involvement – and there is little doubt where you are most at home!

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  9. This is another wonderful album. I love going from the spare desert scenes and patterned rocks, to the jazzy “Nighttime in Las Vegas” reflections.
    There are so many varieties of sumac (around here, it’s staghorn and smooth, thankfully not poison) I wouldn’t have recognized the #7 “skunkbush”.
    The picture of Ephedra in #9 is a knockout. But #10 makes me antsy just looking at it – I’m sure if I was anywhere near it, I’d get interested in something, get distracted, and back into it.
    I love shots of fog, and your last one has a lovely Japanese painting-feeling, really nice.
    Taking pictures has I think gotten me to concentrate more on the world around me, and the here-and-now, at least in some ways. But then there’s the ambivalence when it distracts me from the people I’m with, and with simply enjoying what I’m seeing, instead of fiddling with the camera and thinking about how to take a shot. So I’m already a photographic backslider, and sometimes deliberately leave the camera behind to make sure I focus on the people around me.

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    • I’m glad you enjoy the back and forth; I do, too. How well I remember the staghorn sumacs of the northeast – I grew up with them. I didn’t think #7 looked like a sumac either! It’s fun (for me anyway) to try to identify the plants. The cholla cacti (#10) are really, really bad to get tangled up in. The first time I saw them, outside L.A., there was a discarded T shirt on the ground nearby, full of spines. Your intuition is spot on!
      Your comments about attending to people vs. the camera are interesting. I’m guilty, and I admire you for leaving the camera behind sometimes, that is very rare for me. Thank you for your comments!

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  10. Dear Lynn, again wonderful photos! Especially interrupting the series of desert pictures in earthy tones and pale greens by two very loud and colourful Las Vegas views is a great idea.
    I totally sympathize with your thoughts about dilusion of experience by taking photos. Time and again, I leave the camera at home in order to see the world without rectangular frame an concentrate on sounds and smells and holistic view (and in many cases I regret not to have the camera then).

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    • The contrast was so much more intense than those photos can show but at least you got the idea. 🙂 It’s funny that you regret not having the camera, ah, life! We do make ourselves suffer, son’t we, Ule? Thanks for being here, I appreciate your presence.

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  12. Sometimes photographing a walk will immerse me more deeply into the experience, though of course it’s a much different kind of immersion in the environment than if I had no camera. When that happens I lose all track of time and usually spend much more time than I realize when my mind and energy return to the more tactile rush of now. Perhaps when traveling to take photos it’s the urgency to hurry rather than the camera that’s pulling you out of the moment?
    I do understand the distance that can be caused by capturing with thoughts to share. For me that was a two-edged sword. It pushed me harder to get outside and to explore wider circles with more varied environments, and it gave me the extra energy to face freezing or wet conditions to capture unique moments. But it also made me lose the immediacy of the experience for contemplation and quieting of my own energies in my own time. I capture much less and share/post much less. I’m finally beginning to find joy and quiet in it again, but I feel much more balanced and don’t feel driven to post.
    I certainly thank you for posting these. So many beautiful and provocative images in this series. I love how you used the grid and lines of the curtains inside the room to frame and enhance the lines of the buildings outside the hotel.

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    • Good point, Sheri, that urgency can be such a big factor. I have to work on that! Where did all my years of zen practice go? 😉
      And your thoughts about the two-edged sword are so well put, better than I managed! I have to figure out now, whether you’re recommending that I post less, to save myself, or more, to entertain you. 😉 Again, I’m kidding, and thank you so much for sharing your thoughts – I really do appreciate your presence here.
      (BTW, the hotel room image – yes, I did compose it, but also, I used a filter on the camera that dramatizes the image, increases contrast, etc. So that’s part of it. A setting like that can help you see differently.

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  13. Another great gallery, Lynn. I liked your comment : ‘We take pictures to document our experience… That can create pressure to perform, which in turn can dilute our ability to fully enjoy the experience itself.’ There is undoubtedly truth in that statement. There is a paradox at the heart of travel photography: we capture images to enhance our memories, and yet by seeing our ‘resort’ or ‘journey’ through a lens we may in fact miss out on so much else. I experience a similar problem when I climb or trek in the Alps. There is a necessity to capture images as I am not likely to be visit that particular location again, and yet by spending time on image capture I can risk failure to attain the summit or goal of the day through running out of time. It’s always a balancing act, isn’t it.

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  14. Beautiful, stark country, my friend, and so alien to me with all those cacti! And I love the city nighttime shot. As for the shooting, I gather that the motive is still unclear, a mystery. A

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    • I don’t know how mysterious the motive for shooting is, but I’d say it has a “both/and” quality, not an “either/or” quality. You’d love seeing the wide open landscape of the American desert, whose plant life is so different from Kenya’s, not to mention the Levels’. The nighttime shot was taken while we drove, which you may have guessed; the results were completely unpredictable. 🙂

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  15. I enjoy your shot with the color drained quite a bit. Of course it is a thrill to capture what it ‘really’ looks like…I was there once…but this is different from what one always sees posted about Red Rock…it’s a more ‘unique’ view. I like it quite a bit!

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  16. Hi Lynn, I can really relate to your thoughts on travel and photography. I often force myself to put my camera down and simply look, observe, feel… I think images are better once that is done. And yours are a wonderful array– I was oohing over the desert landscapes and then hit your close-ups which made me take a breath. Your eye for texture, shape, pattern is exquisite. Love that Prickly Pear and the Buckhorn! And the colors and striations in the rocks are fabulous.
    Thank you also for your remembrance of the Las Vegas tragedy.

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    • Goran, please forgive me for not replying earlier. Thanks so much for your comments – glad you enjoyed the post, and also that you liked the blurred foreground. As long as someone else is driving, photographing out the car window can be really fun.

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  19. Wonderful series of images. During our visit, Death Valley was still dealing with the aftermath of getting a half inch of rain. Fortunately the mud had been cleared from the roads and only a few mud holes remained on the back roads. The desert is such a contrast to western Washington. And the throbbing sounds and flickering lights of Vegas are another world.

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  20. I’m always a sucker for desert sunsets, they never seem to get old. I particularly love #16, though it feels like it belongs somewhere other than Nevada? It’s so tragic about disaster fatigue, and yet I understand it completely. 2017 was a difficult year and we can only hope that 2018 is kinder.

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  24. Fantastic views of this very special world and landscape of the desert! Colours and plants are so minimalistic, but you can find beauty everywhere, as you did with your pictures. I like some of the “natural” pictures very much, but the fotos from Vegas are great too. The contrasts make life much more interesting 🙂 – What you said about photography: I had a similar discussion with someone short time ago. On the one hand, I think I don’t enjoy the moment as much as I could. I have so many pictures at home and only a small number is important to me. The digital era makes it inflationary….on the other side there are moments I am so concentrated, so focused on the object of interest. It is almost meditative. Maybe even more than without it. It is hard to say. But as someone said above, it is a gift for the viewer. What a pity it would be not to have seen all these fantastic pictures!!! The possibility of seeing the world through someone elses eyes. Maybe the truth is in the middle (as we are saying ;-): enjoy both times. With and without the camera….I am very glad about your pictures 🙂

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    • I’m sorry it took me so long – over a month! – to reply, Almuth. I do appreciate your comments, always. I agree, the contrasts makes life all the more interesting. And it’s true, photography can bring you both closer and further from being present in the moment. I like your idea – enjoy the experience with and without the camera – good thinking! Thank you!

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  25. I’m late with this, and sorry for it. I love the first image. Maybe the rain and mist drained the red out of Red Rock Canyon, but look at the gorgeous blue it left behind. The same goes for the last image. I’m glad you worked with what you had (how could you do otherwise?). Your photographs are more personal for not being taken in full sun, like everyone else’s. Number 3 appeals to me because it combines the ordinary for me (cloudy sky) with the unordinary for me (rocky landscape with big outcrop). I also like the limited palette in this photograph, though I don’t particularly like it in real life. I like those sandstone patterns in number 4; glad you included them. There you go again in number 7 with your shallow depth of field; I love it when you do that. Like the palette of that one, too. I like the yellows of number 9 followed by the yellows of number 10 and 11. The scribble of the right-hand yucca: you give it just the right definition with your shallow depth of field. Thanks for another enjoyable collection, Lynn.

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    • OK, three weeks later, I finally reply….sorry! I like the poetic way you describe what the rain did to the colors. It WOULD be someone like you, with your really great eye for subtleties, who expresses a liking for the third image. 🙂 That limited palette would be nice for an interior, don’t you think? Walls, furniture, everything, then maybe a pop of deep red. #4 is of course inspired by you. Re the shallow depth of field photos, that’s what I wanted to do the most when I started using an interchangeable lens camera; I was desperate to be able to do that. I was so thrilled when I got a macro lens! #11 is one that made me happy when I saw it – all those gently curved leaves, gracefully fallen onto the cool stones. Mmmm. The yucca, #13, processed nicely, if you know what I mean. Thank you for another enjoyable bunch of comments, Linda! 😉

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      • Yes, I could live in a room of the number 3 colors! Happy to have inspired you to take the photos of number 4! Looking back at these I noticed for the first time the similarities of the curvy things in numbers 11 and 13. Fun!

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  26. Pingback: Death Valley « bluebrightly

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