My first trip to Canyon de Chelly, started out like a young boy approaching a great adventure that many had traveled before. It was the excitement and hope, accompanied by the feelings of being in the presence of a giant or greatness, and wondering how I would compare to the massive stature of this greatness. Nonetheless, just like many times in the past, my quest was not to conquer, but to respect and try to record some night time images that would truly become world class. No small feat, considering I was traveling to a very popular iconic location made famous photographically by none other than Ansel Adams.
The one and only location that I could hike to within the Canyon unaccompanied by a guide was White House Ruins. In the many steps taken in preparation to this trip, I made certain there was full access to the trail throughout the night. My goal was to hike down in the afternoon, look around to set up the shot, start taking pictures after sunset, and then safely proceed to hike out of the Canyon in the dark. It was mid-April, but there was still a cold nip to the air, indicating that the night time temperature would drop considerably. So, as I arrived at my launching pad to hike to my location, I gathered all of my gear consisting of two backpacks, a powerful spot light with a diameter around 12” inches and 18” inches in length, and a sturdy tripod. One would think this would render me motionless when attempting to hike, but amazingly I was able to maneuver quite well.
After taking a few steps into the Canyon, I checked my watch and realized I was about a half-hour to one hour later than I would have liked to start the hike. Therefore, I felt the need to travel down the trail rather quickly, while at the same time trying to memorize natural landmarks and splits in the trail that could pose a challenge upon returning later that evening. Trails during the daylight hours look very differently as compared to night time, especially when the landscape is only illuminated by a headlamp or flashlight. Since my load was somewhat top heavy, I needed to pay particular attention to lowering my center of gravity so as not to make myself any more prone to slipping or falling. Off I went into the great adventure with one backpack slung around my chest, the other on my back, tripod in one hand and large spot light in the other.
Once I arrived safely at White House Ruins, I began the process of walking around, trying to figure out the best setup for the evening shoot. There were two vantage points I wanted to shoot, and after the sun went down I began working my magic. The shoot went very well and I was rather pleased. The temperature had dropped considerably, as expected, and now I needed to pack up everything and start my hike back out of the Canyon. It was a moonless night, which turned the landscape and horizon pitch black. The stars were out twinkling in the bitter cold air and I could see my breath in the glare of the light coming from my headlamp. I tried retracing my steps back to the main trail, but instead of crossing the walking bridge first, I decided to walk along the flowing stream on the opposite side of the trail.
As I recalled, there was a key junction I needed to find which would lead me from the Canyon floor back to the portion of the hike that was easier to follow up the mountain. If I missed that connection, I wouldn’t be able to find my way out of the Canyon, and would inadvertently enter private lands where trespassers are not welcome. There was increasing humidity in the air diminishing my sight of the surrounding area. After hiking around in the dark with all my gear, I had a strange sense that I was very close to that key transition point in the trail, but my immediate surroundings didn’t look familiar. I knew I was close, so I just continued to move along hoping to find that spot.
Without any warning, deep in the dark and directly in front of my pathway, were eight pairs of eyes glaring and reflecting back at me from my headlamp. My first thought was ‘Oh my God’, they are precisely in front of that key junction! The pack of animals was invisible to me, other than the eerie reflection of their eyes from the light. I stopped dead in my tracks, trying to calculate the danger and possible type of animals, I figured they were probably coyotes. Their stare was very cold, just like the night air, and quite frightening. There I was all alone with heavy equipment, and if they were very hungry I could have been in a heaping pile of trouble. They didn’t move, but just kept staring at me almost baiting me to make the first move. My mind was racing, and one of many thoughts that streamed through my head was that I had dealt with some coyotes in north Scottsdale, in a dry wash area, and they don’t like the sound of a gun or sharp loud noises.
For whatever the reasoning, I latched onto that main concept and decided to quickly and carefully put down my tripod and large spot light and try clapping. My eyes never left theirs as I hurriedly freed up my hands and clapped as loudly and sharply as possible. The rapid clapping was about one per second, and in addition to trying to scare them, I began yelling as well. The amazing thing was that these beasts never flinched, didn’t move, and certainly never stopped staring at me. Now came the second ‘Oh my God’!
After trying unsuccessfully to scare off these creatures, another stream of ideas and thoughts rushed into my head...what about creating the appearance of being very tall, large and loud? So, I began clapping over my head, yelling and even trying new and improved animal or scary bear sounds (even though bears don’t generally live or forage in the high desert). With sweat dripping down my brow, the headlamp fixed on their eyes, and making the most frightening sounds I could muster, I still produced absolutely no movement or sounds coming from these creatures! Now comes the third ‘Oh my God’! This stand-off continued for what seemed to be several minutes. Neither party progressed forward or backwards.
What to do…make more noise and louder?
At this point I was yelling at the top of my lungs, making crazy animal noises and clapping. The results of the efforts: nothing! I still persisted until the next stream of thoughts arrived at a possible question…could I be in the wrong place? What if I had traveled too far and was already past my junction point? What if I am on Native American private property? Do I need to back track? Will these beasts follow me if and when I retreat? If I had gone too far and I truly am on private property (now comes the fourth ‘Oh my God’), I’m a dead man! I’ve been making loud sounds and noises that could be heard very easily in the floor of the Canyon, and interpreted as gun shots and possibly large animals. The locals are going to come out with loaded shot guns aiming for my head! The fifth ‘Oh my God’!
Carefully, I grabbed my tripod and large spot light and begin to back track while watching the glaring reflection of the sixteen eyes. I wanted to be able to judge whether the pack of animals would maintain the distance between us or close in as I retreated. Simultaneously, I began a new chant out loud: “I’m sorry, no problems, just passing through, don’t shoot; I’m sorry, no problems, just passing through, don’t shoot.…”. I continued this slightly hysterical and crazed mantra, and was relieved when the pack of animals seemed to be maintaining their position and not pursuing me. No more than a minute or two later in my hasty retreat, I turned my back and began seeing something in the distance. With the headlight bouncing all over the place and my eyes trying to readjust to the dark surroundings, I thought I saw what appeared to be a post in the ground. As I rushed forward, the post came into view and I could see that it was attached to a simple fencing. Now comes the fifth ‘Oh my God’, I was truly in the wrong place, but I just found the fencing that led to the junction point to find my way out of the Canyon!!!!
Still repeating my mantra as loudly as possible, I tripped and tried with all of my might and dexterity not to fall. The back of my hands and forearms scraped the uneven ground, but all I could think of was to get the hell out of there! I scrambled to regain my upward posture and didn’t miss a step. Now that I had found the trail, I felt a fraction of relief, but still kept yelling my mantra for the next ten minutes. In my haste, I almost tripped a second time, but just as the first time, I regained my footing and didn’t actually fall. Eventually, after a considerable effort, I hiked out of the Canyon fully intact.
This story had been told to many friends, loved ones and colleges, but the final chapter of the saga wasn’t written until one year later. The decision was made to revisit Canyon de Chelly, and not only look for new locations to shoot, but to return to White House Ruins, and see if I could improve on the original work. This is a very typical and necessary approach by many professional nature and landscape photographers. Knowing full well of my great escape from the eight pairs of glaring eyes the prior year, I approached the trip with great caution and a bit of concern. This time around, I only carried one large backpack with all of my gear, plus hiking poles to be used either as hiking aides or in self-defense.
Once again, I prepared myself and the gear, and checked my watch as I began my next adventure to White House Ruins.
This time around, I had plenty of time to get to my location and was able to pay particular attention to the trail and surroundings. As I hiked down the mountain and was approaching the Canyon floor, I wanted to memorize the transition of that ever-so-important point along the trail. After coming down the last few steps and making a gentle left turn I noticed a sign with some fencing. The sign said something to the effect of private property, no trespassing and no photos. Further behind the sign was a nice green field and what appeared to be a fence, creating a relatively modest sized pen backing up to the Canyon wall. As I looked over the area, I noticed in the furthest portion of the penned-in area a group of animals. I moved closer to the sign to get a better look at what was just a bit further away. Now comes the sixth and final ‘Oh my God’! The pen contained a small heard of domesticated sheep. After a moment or two of disbelief, and recounting my experiences from a year earlier, everything started to make sense. As embarrassing as it may be, that pack of sixteen glaring eyes from the previous year didn’t belong to a pack of wild animals or coyotes, but to a small number of domesticated sheep. This story is really about my coyote sheep! That explains why they never moved, nor did they ever make a sound. All I could do was thank God that my stupidity didn’t get me shot on that cold night one year ago.
