So, the visit to Cedar Breaks seems to have adjusted my point of view in some manner. As you'll see, these pictures, taken from the same overlooks as my previous Bryce Canyon tours, are much more concerned with the composition and aesthetics of what I'm seeing than the overpowering magnificence of the "Grand View". Addressing Cedar Breaks' minor position relative to Bryce Canyon, I brought that "smaller" view here, finally able look past the obvious first impressions of the park.
It probably also had something to do with the time of day. Arriving in the dark has a lot to be said for it. First Light is always a good time to be out with a camera. That's Navajo Mountain on the horizon, about 83 miles southeast. How often do you get to see that far nowadays? It was certainly worth getting up and driving through the wee hours for.
I'm not really sure which overlooks I was shooting from this morning, but it probably doesn't really matter anyway. Any time you can confine Bryce Canyon to a quarter of the frame, you can be proud of yourself for overcoming the obvious. And having seen this small view, you can add it to your treasures.
Oops. Two thirds of the frame is cliffs and hoodoos. But, even so, it would have been a sin to waste the morning sun and not take this shot. Does Bryce Canyon make you want some Orange Sherbet, or maybe a Dreamsicle?
The sun's high enough now to overpower almost any view in that quadrant, but the shadows are strong too. If you can avoid lens flare, you've done well. The other alternative is to incorporate it. I do that occasionally, but usually trying to salvage an otherwise good shot. In this case I let the flare in my viewfinder determine how far left my aim needed to go.
Yes, there's a lot of orange cliff here and a bit more in the background, but I still think my small view winning the day. The small view lets you study the details.
Think of this as an intermission of sorts. Weathered wood, whether in the form of planks on an old barn or fence, or long-dead trees scattered on a forest floor, has always held me in thrall. The texture is a big part of it - it's never long before you're thinking about splinters or see yourself standing there with a dry branch broken off in your hand.
Okay, back to the orange sherbet canyon and it's hoodoos. We'll get back to the small view but first, instead of looking out to the horizon and seeing everything, look down a little and you see a couple of ridges instead of thirty or fifty. Detail. Do you see the square dance going on halfway up the second ridge? Shadows or hoodoos, this canyon is alive.
Still looking down at some angle below the horizon, you can "zoom in" (i.e., focus on) less stuff, and it's easier to get your head around (and enjoy) the fewer details you're taking in. What, for example, is that convocation of hoodoos just beyond that central ridge? Well, it is Utah - maybe its a meeting of petrified Mormons (no offense, intended).
These two shots, above and below, are some of the same general features but are a tribute to the flexibility of a nice zoom lens. The hoodoos can be whatever you want - sandstone or limestone for all I care - but the detail is there and your curiosity can be turned loose and you can become lost for awhile in the picture.
Faith and Begorrah! There's actually a
person in one of Whiskey Papa's landscapes. Come on, there have been others. I remember there were seven people in one of the
White Sands pictures - #6.
Come right up to the edge and look down. Perspective gets pretty interesting when there are so few straight lines. It's like bumping up the intensity over a shot that relies on a road or telephone poles, or a fence line to remind you about perspective.
Remember, more to come, but at a more relaxed pace. Check back every few days. I'll let you know when the roadtrip's over.
