Telephone Canyon

I don't mind saying that I quivered like a little girl when I saw the first rappel in Telephone Canyon. What a beast. It was 185 feet of sheer rock that peeled back not far from the top to leave a long free rappel that just felt so exposed. After Rich went down first, I volunteered to go next. Usually, I do that because I want to get in a good position for pictures. Not this time. I just wanted to get it over with.

I don't know. For some reason, I just lost my nerve. And as soon as I hit the spot where my toes desperately stretched out but no longer touched rock, I felt incredibly insecure. I started to spin on the rope. I felt like I didn't have enough friction on my rappel device and if I went any faster, I'd lose control. I was half a heartbeat away from pure panic.

Somehow I got down okay, but the rest of the canyon was a rough conglomeration of more than a dozen rappels, none of them easy. Many included chock stones at the top that required special maneuvering just to get started. There were slanted slots too narrow for our packs. My legs were scraped. I got a rope burn.

And yet, I think I'm glad I did it and would actually return for a second run-through. Something about a good, old fashioned challenge, I guess.

Telephone Canyon is located in Zion National Park and requires a lengthy, uphill hike past Angel's Landing just to get to that first, colossal rappel. Recommended only for experienced canyoneers, I would say.

Angel's Landing from the trail. People can either take a trail that goes along the spine of the rock, or just climb up the wall. My vote goes to the trail.

Hiking up and up.

Arriving at the top of the canyon. My stomach turned over at the first sight of it.

Rich (bottom center of the photo) on the first rappel.

Annette showing me how it's done on the free rappel.

Annette about to work her way past a dank pool at the bottom of the first rappel.

Kevin working his way past the same dank pool.

Jerri, the last one down the first rappel, managing the pull rope.

Rich working his way down a free rappel with Kevin belaying.

Rich starting the long hike out over slickrock.

Keyhole Canyon

I have mixed feelings about Keyhole Canyon in Zion National Park. The first time I went through it was two or three years ago and it was canyoneer heaven. Beautiful light even if it was quite dark, deep but freezing cold water, a few slightly challenging segments, but all of it fun. My wife, Gloria, was with me and that made a difference, too, sharing the canyon with her. Unfortunately, just before we got out of the dark corridors and into Zion's bright sunshine, I slipped while in waist-high, murky water and my camera with a flash took a good dunk. I had gotten cocky. Throughout the two-hour excursion, anytime I was in deep water, the camera was safe inside two dry sacks. And whenever I was sloshing through waist-deep water, I held the camera above my head. And then near the end, without thinking, I held the camera only as high as my chest. My feet, feeling about the bottom of the water for purchase, went into a hole. Splunk. If the camera had been above my head, it might not have gone in. Oh, well, I thought. I've got insurance. I got cocky there, too. I had been doing some wild things in the mountain climbing department and busted a few camera parts the previous year. So the insurance company balked at paying for more expensive equipment. Eventually, they relented after I filed a complaint with the state's insurance commission, but afterward, they cancelled my policy.

So the second time I entered the canyon last month, I was ever so careful. But strangely, I didn't see so much to photograph this time. We blasted through the canyon and that was that. I did get a few pictures, however. Can't leave a canyon without a few shots.

The canyon approach climbing up slickrock.

Jerri making her way through the first of the slots.

The first rappel into murky, yucky, cold water that came up to my neck. Notice how smooth and rounded the pothole is. Climbing out involved grabbing a nubbin of rock and heaving my body over the edge.

Others had help getting out of the pothole.

My pack.

Pine Creek Canyon

I've talked before about the difficulties of photographing a canyoneering trip. But every once in awhile, our merry band comes across a canyon that has all the right angles and light for wonderful pictures. I think Pine Creek Canyon in Zion National Park qualifies. My two biggest complaints is lack of good angles to shoot (rappels are often in constricted spaces where it's nearly impossible to shoot anywhere but up or down) and the sometimes necessary speed we have to take on in order to get through a canyon before the end of the day. Pine Creek Canyon? Negative on both accounts. It was a real pleasure to have great angles and a leisurely pace (well, sort of; we planned on doing another, shorter canyon the same day). I had the time to ask my buds to wait for me when a photo op appeared, and there were plenty of those. Pine Creek Canyon is full of wilderness eye candy.

But the bottom line for me is how many good photographs I was able to squeeze out of the canyon. That doesn't happen often. I was happy throughout. What a pleasure.

On a technical note, I went with just one lens, my 16-35mm, and there were many places where there was bright and dark spots in the same shot, so I did a lot of HDR, five-exposure brackets. Many of the pictures in this portfolio come under that category. If I did my job right, it's not obvious. Lastly, lots of darkness where I was shooting anywhere from ISO 400 all the way to 26,400. Love that Canon 5D MIII with its low-light performance!

Jerri at the beginning approach to the top of the canyon.

Rich descending the first rappel.

Jerri watching Rich go down into the canyon.

Jerri on first rappel while Kevin looks on.

Rich descending into one of the most amazing canyon chambers I've seen.

Jerri wading through chest-high water to the chamber's exit. Oh, yeah, that water was cold.

A corridor through the canyon.

Annette under a rare swatch of sunlight.

The canyon version of driftwood.

Another corridor. Note the chock stone overhead.

Annette takes a brief snooze while Rich rigs the anchor.

Out in the open again, Rich descends into one of the more spectacular scenes.

Another canyon scene. Note in the upper left a "window" where the Zion tunnel cuts through the mountain.

Sometimes you get lucky: Rich wore a bright yellow shirt that kept him from getting lost in the composition.

Jerri belaying Annette.

Yours truly descending a free rappel (photo by Jerri Lauridsen).

Rich belaying Annette.

A small pool near the last rappel.

Rich washing off his gear of all the sand in a soothing, down-canyon pool. Caribiners get cranky when they're loaded full of sand and then they get stuck at the worst possible moments.

Relaxing in the pool before what turned out to be a longer than expected (and hotter) hike out to the car.

Typhon Canyon

I have to admit that after I exited Typhon Canyon in Death Valley National Park, I decided I wasn't that thrilled with the place. I can't say exactly what left me unenthusiastic. Maybe it was the long, steep, difficult approach. We left the parking lot at Dante's View and hiked a lovely trail for about two miles before plunging along an extremely steep, loose rock spine that shredded at my toes and worked my thighs more than an uphill climb would have. Finally, we reached the top of the canyon and started the various down-climbs and rappels. I guess I judge a place by how much I enjoy photographing it. Perhaps that's a little strange to some people. Obsessive to others. But if I don't feel like I'm accomplishing much photographically, I get restless. And visually, the canyon was nothing, at least to my eyes. Because it had a lot of broad areas, there was a lot of harsh, hot light on colorless, featureless rock. The rappels were mediocre and run-of-the-mill.

So, I didn't look at the pictures when I got back all that much. Wasn't interested. Finally, I dove into them only because my friends had asked about them and I discovered that subconsciously (I guess) to compensate for the dreary scenery (again, my perception and not necessarily that of my friends), I concentrated more on the people I was with. I rather liked those pictures and that surprised me. As with a lot of photography, sometimes you need that distance to see what you've really got. So here they are.

Headed away from the trailhead at 6 a.m.

Dante Peak

Rich contemplating the route.

Rich down-climbing a tricky patch.

Kevin tossing out the rappel rope.

Scooting along another down-climb.

Kevin about go through a hole in the rock.

Annette about to negotiate the same hole in the rock.

I'm told this is a Mojave rattlesnake. I nearly stepped on it without knowing I was even close to it until someone else pointed it out.

Kevin, our meat anchor. He's backing up an anchor wrapped around a boulder.

Annette on one of the final rappels.

Pine Creek Canyon

Deep inside Zion National Park's Pine Creek Canyon is a dark, cool, watery chamber that requires a long rappel to enter. A stunning place. Almost too stunning. I was so fixated on the rappel and the twisted rock, that I nearly missed how one had to exit the opposite end of the chamber through an arched doorway lit from above. I saw Jerri heading for the door, chest-deep in water and shot off a five-frame bracket at one-stop intervals, while trying to hold the camera still. (The ISO was set at a noise-popping 25,600). I did this five times and the fourth one was the best. I liked how her arms were stretched out, hands pulling at the rock with her body nearly centered in the doorway. I took the darkest exposure and then the "normal" exposure and blended them, using bits of the lighter version to open up the shadows. Miraculously, the shots nearly aligned perfectly and with the help of Photoshop, locked into place just right. If I wanted to get really fancy, I suppose I could infuse this caption with all kinds of metaphors, but it's just a nicely realized moment. That's all.