535 - Mount Garfield
Today I decided to try my luck as a new age cowboy.
It originally started with the goal of making it from Denver to Hanksville for sunset- an easy 6 hour hour drive. The plan was to make it by 7:00 PM for an 8:45 PM close-out. Sounds reasonable, right?
Not when there’s a flaming van in the Eisenhower Tunnel. And if you don’t know what the Eisenhower Tunnel is, let me explain. It’s a 1.7 mile long tunnel in the Colorado mountains that marks the highest point in the US Highway System. It cost over 100 million dollars to build (60 million dollars over budget,) and at one point was the highest elevation tunnel in the world.
Driving through it isn’t just a pivotal step in crossing the United States, it’s a right of passage. As a child, legend has it that if you can hold your breath through the entire duration of the tunnel, you’ll be immediately admitted into adulthood. (What most kids don’t know is that it takes approximately 5 minutes to go through the tunnel, rendering this feat nearly impossible for 99% of the population.)
On average, the tunnel passes around 35,000 cars per month. And if this thing shuts down, it’s not just a little pain in the ass. It’s a big one.
The detour to go around the tunnel involves a hefty climb up Loveland Pass, a treacherous windy road that adds about an hour to the drive, on a good day. But it’s never a good day when Eisenhower is closed, because the mere amount of traffic that congests that pass adds another hour to the ride. Try holding your breath for that one.
So when I was met with a load of traffic and saw smoke licking out of the tunnel like the tongue of a lizard, I cursed the fire gods. Today was a Loveland Pass kind of day, whether I liked it or not. Cue the 1978 classic, “Fire on the Mountain” by The Grateful Dead.
As I weaved and waved along the cliffside of Loveland Pass, it dawned on me that sunset in Utah was no longer an option. Grand Junction was the next, most logical option.
Once I found myself back on the interstate, I Googled “Things to Do in Grand Junction.” I know. Real original. But I was driving at 83 miles per hour and didn’t exactly have the ability to conduct a thorough investigation into the hidden gems of Eastern Colorado.
At this point in my career, it’s still astonishing to me how much I favor places that have cool names. So when I saw the name “Little Book Cliffs” near Grand Junction, my mind was made up before I even clicked on the link.
Turns out, Little Book Cliffs is one of only three ranges in the United States set aside specifically for wild horses. In all, there was over 30,000 acres of land in those hills for these wild beasts to roam.
Sold. Today I was hunting horses like a goddamn cowboy. But it was a gamble, for sure. There was a moderate to high chance I didn't see a single one of those majestic mammals and I walked home empty handed. But for some reason, the idea of betting on horses seemed oddly fitting.
I rolled in about an hour before sunset and took in the sign posted at the trailhead. From what I could make out (approximately ¾ of the sign was destroyed from a close-range shotgun blast,) there were 24 different trails to choose from.
Damn. I forgot how big 30,000 acres was. Or wait… 36,000 acres. The six was blown off.
The heat beat down on me like a hammer from the gods. I looked around. It was time to make a decision.
I decided to take the Main Trail. But not because it was the most obvious option. It was because it led up a hill that overlooked the valley from above. It would allow me to get a handy vantage point where I could re-examine my route.
30 minutes later I was on top of that mole-hill, and I could see everything. But not a single horse trotted in that scolding hot valley. The sun kissed the top of the mountain, and said its farewell before dipping behind the hills for its final descent. My luck was running out.
I made a blanket decision. Screw this place. I’m driving back to Grand Junction and finding something along the way.
It was a wild decision, I must admit. Here I was, in a beautiful mountain valley, scarily close to sunset, with hundreds of compositions to choose from. But there wasn’t a single horse. Looking back, I believe I reacted out of frustration more than anything.
I sped through Palisade, weighing my options. Today was turning out to be a doozy and half.
Countless signs whizzed by, advertising every possible thing you can do with a peach. That’s what this town was famous for, peaches. “Life’s a peach, and then you pie,” I thought.
The powerful Mount Garfield loomed overhead, listening intently. This massive butte watched over the town of Grand Junction like the Dark Tower of Mordor.
Suddenly I felt myself drawn to its presence. I’d always appreciated Garfield, but I never had gotten around to shooting it due to logistics.
The strange thing about this colossus heap of eroded dirt was that despite its enormity, there was no “official” viewpoint for it- only farmlands were at its base. Therefore, it required a proper scouting beforehand.
I decided to take a chance. I swerved down a random dirt road full of trash just as the sky began lighting up. There weren’t many clouds… but the ones that were lit up were small and I knew they’d fade fast. I pulled over and just started running towards the butte.
I… just… need… a foreground. Anything. Any-thing. This adventure has to work out. My luck has been too ridiculous.
I stumbled up a small hill, looked down into a dry river bed, and saw cracks. Pure, untouched, cracks.
Smiling like a junkie, I quickly scoped out a composition and unraveled my tripod. But when I went to click my camera on it, my heart stopped.
There was no connection plate on my camera. It simply wasn’t there, and I had no idea why. My tripod was effectively useless.
I wanted to scream, but I didn’t have time. Milliseconds were being accounted for right now. I drew in a deep breath, steadied my hand, and lined up a perfect focus stack focal blend combo.
Don’t ask me how. But my hand has never been that still in my life:
“Through the Cracks”
Taken with Sony a7rIV + Sony 12-24mm f/4 G
[ISO 1000 ~ 12mm ~ f/8 ~ 1/200s] [Focus Stack + Focal Blend]
(Want a Print? Get one here.)
I don’t even know what to say. I love that shot. Not just because it’s a gorgeous, original composition of a semi-famous butte in Eastern Colorado, but because of the absolute insanity I went through to get it.
Jesus Christ that photo didn’t come easily.
I breathed a sigh of relief as I collapsed in the front seat of my car. A solid day’s work.
I’m on a mission to explore as much as humanely possible.
Want to see my progress? Check out the Adventure Map.
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