Ann-alog, a Pixel Remix, where Ann Torrence blogs about photographing for a book on U.S. Highway 89, the greatest road trip route in America. Photography tips, locations, trip reports, and real life.

Haymaking equipment known as a "beaverslide"

For the whole time I have been working on the U.S. Highway 89 book, I have been focused on keeping the final product as affordable as possible. A fancy coffee table book would have been much easier to produce, a nice fat hardbound book that would retail for $75 or more. And ego-gratifying, unless I wanted people to actually buy and enjoy my book. No, my model of success has always been at a much lower price point. I figure that if someone picks up my book on one part of the highway, say in Yellowstone, and decides to go visit another place like Wupatki National Monument because they saw it in my book, I would have accomplished something. Which sort of means people have to be able to buy it. How many people actually buy $75 books?

Since acquiring Sagebrush Press, I have gotten a rapid education on what makes books affordable. Not everything I want can go into the book, which means some hard choices. This one didn't make it to the final round. Others did. 176 images (today, may tweak it tomorrow), but not this one, even though I can think of a thousand reasons why I like it. The story required others.

It's a better position to be in than the alternative, putting in junk to fill out the pages. I am glad to say I have all the images I need. And a few to spare. I also have some spare words, sentences that I cut to fit the copy to the layout. This highway is a big topic, all 1,600 miles of it, and everything I love about it just won't fit between two softcover, 4 color process plus gloss UV coating, perfect-bound covers (that's printer-talk for you) unless the type is really, really small. Hard choices, and I'm glad I'm the one making them. I still wish I could fit this one it though

Screen shot of my U.S. Highway 89 book

Progress, frustratingly slow, but progress nevertheless. I don't dare put a date on when it will go to press, but it is going. Here's a screen shot of the introductory spread for Chapter 8. I am very happy with how it is coming out.

There are 176 images in the book (as of today, may change tomorrow). In selecting images, I was grateful for some good advice I absorbed early on, and wished more times than I can say that I followed it more rigorously early in the project: once I have a cooperative subject and a good composition, to shoot it for a variety of crop formats. The image of Lower Yellowstone Falls, for example, I shot wide, so I could crop at an 8x10 format, and long, so I could use a 2x3. I have some that are horizontal. The rainbow lasts for only a few minutes, so it's important to have a plan to get all the different aspect ratios I might want later on.

I wasn't 100% consistent in shooting for completeness early on, and sometimes things are so fast moving, I only got one shot. Since I'm designing this book myself, I had the luxury of making my images fit to the text, but sometimes it would have been a lot easier to have a vertical image that would crop to the size I needed, rather than fitting the one I had, or settling for a horizontal one and redesigning a spread.

If I can't make a lot of shots, these days I am shooting wider, filling the shorter dimension of the frame, but leaving room for cropping on the long side since the 2x3 format is pretty restrictive. But if I can, I shoot lots of options. I get teased sometimes by other photographers for taking way more shots than others, but I have turned that old advice into hard-won experience, and a few extra electrons isn't going to hurt anyone.

As my friend Bruce Hucko says to me, "Drive on!" Just a few more mileposts to go.

P.S. If you want to get an email when this book is available, please visit my handy email email form to sign up.

The Grand Teton, tallest of them all

I counted up the photos in the nearly final layout of the Highway 89 book: 176. But not this one. I didn't do anything with this when I shot it in 2006--two other images from that same trip are in the book, including this one, that it didn't stand out at the time. My Adobe Camera Raw chops are better now too. I made this a much better image than I could have three years ago. Even though it doesn't displace anything in the Wyoming chapter, I still like it.

Three day old foal

Even though I'm about done shooting for Highway 89 project, I can't seem to get away from Sanpete County. We went down to Spring City Heritage Day, and on the way, met up with a new committee member for the Day of the American Cowboy Celebration in Mt. Pleasant (July 25). Adam has a new addition to his ranch: this three-day old filly.

Today, Rich Legg and I were doing some photo editing for the book, and drifted off into esoteric Photoshop actions. This one is supposed to mimic a platinum print. I don't know about that, but I like the effect for this timeless scene.

Nankoweap Granaries

One of the reasons we chose to float the Grand Canyon in April with CRATE was the opportunity for more hiking time than a typical 8-day motorized trip. Same river distance in 11 days equates to three more days to explore, and reliably cooler weather in April.

When we rafted (with CRATE) in 1998, we did not get to stop at the Nankoweap granaries. It's a short and steep hike (there are only steep hikes in Grand Canyon), a good warm-up for the days ahead.

Trail to the Nankoweap granaries

While we were on the trail, the shadow line crossed the river from right bank to left, and I could have watched it and worked with it and the granaries all morning. Even with 11 river days, the schedule did not allow for frittering away everyone else's time for photography. Dawdling could mean losing a premium campsite to another party, and then we'd be lined up in our sleeping bags like basking seals on a narrow beach somewhere. I couldn't do that to my shipmates, all friends of friends and kind, considerate people. Instead, I scuttled back to the raft so we could make some river miles before lunch and cookie time.

Mile 50 from Lee's Ferry on the Colorado River

The guidebooks mark 280 miles from Lee's Ferry to the Lake Mead takeout points. On our 11 day voyage, we made it to mile 50 on the second night, making some early headway so we could devote a couple days to long hikes.

The trip started on an upsetting note, when one of the senior members of our party collapsed at Lee's Ferry. Instead of getting our pre-boarding safety lecture, we did what little we could to help our guides and the park service rangers render aid. Our friend was evacuated by helicopter to Flagstaff; his wife and another couple left the trip to be with him in the hospital. He is home now, doing well. It's the kind of disaster that brings out the "what ifs". What if it had happened a half hour later when we were plunging deep into Marble Canyon? The outcome might not have been so good.

After the chopper left, the rangers left, and the guides restowed their emergency kits, we went on. The first night was subdued.

By the second day, we had toasted our friends and decided to make the most of our trip. At our second camp, I retrieved my tripod from its safe spot deep in the bottom of the raft and carried my gear down to the river. I had to race to get this shot before the light beams moved off the rapids.

Sunset comes early when you are deep in the Grand Canyon. The golden glow is followed by a long twilight hour, time to contemplate while waiting for supper, the bats, the first stars. That night we didn't know if our friend had survived. All we could do was hope, and accept the solace of the red canyon walls.

Lava Falls, Grand Canyon National Park

The second half of our rafting party gets the thrill of a lifetime in the Grand Canyon's biggest rapid.

I have barely had time to scan through the 42 GB of images I amassed with the four cameras I carried on the trip. (Note to photographers, make sure your outfitter is understanding about the amount of gear before you book your trip. Our group was smaller than normal, making extra room for my two backpacks and Pelican case.) The boatman on the raft I was on went first, offering a memorial to a friend who had passed, and we had the cleanest, driest ride through Lava Falls. He then crossed the tail of the rapid to get us into position for spectating and photographing. The second raft party had watched our descent from the scouting spot; as they trundled to their raft, I had time to get out my gear, swap on the 70-200, a new flash card and battery pack for the D700. This is one of 52 images I took in 40 seconds, selectively firing the shutter to keep the buffer from overfilling. Somewhere on that raft are 10 people, most of whom appear to be underwater during this frame.

Lower Yellowstone Falls, Yellowstone NP

This image needs a home, because there's only room for one Lower Yellowstone Falls image in the U. S. 89 book. This isn't the one, but calling it a reject just ain't right.

So what trumps this picture? I won't say it's better, just that the one I picked works better in the context of the Wyoming chapter. It will be the Highway 89 print of the month for July. I think it's worth waiting for.

Union Pacific's historic engine 844 visited Ogden, Utah this weekend

Yesterday, I had time to read only a dozen Twitter updates. Luckily, Scott Smith's tweet about Union Pacific's steam locomotive 844 arriving in Ogden was one of them. Because of Easter shots I needed for the Cathedral of the Madeleine project, I couldn't go on Sunday, but we met up this morning at the station.

We made a new friend, Jim, who had photographed the train before and knew how the main line tracks intersected all the interesting bridges and crossings on the train's path toward Elko. As it left the station, Jim invited Scott and me to jump in his car to chase the train. We got a few shots, but I liked this one better, with just a hint of old-time industrial Ogden in the background.

Occasionally, I get some grief about spending valuable time on Twitter, but opportunities like this one have sprung up that I would have otherwise completely missed. Even the UP Steam Locomotive 844 has a Twitter stream. Not like the old days, when railways were managed by telegraph orders, grabbed by the crew as their train passed through a station. Named for the onionskin paper they were printed on, "flimsies" were eventually replaced by radios. I talked to a retired front brakeman today who remembered using them in his days on the rails. The gentleman probably doesn't Twitter either, but without it, I never would have had a chance to meet him.

You can find me on Twitter at twitter.com/anntorrence. Fun, free, and occasionally shockingly useful.

Cowboy Bar, Jackson Wyoming

I knew in the back of my mind that I had a keeper of this neon, but then I moved on. Today I put some time into readying it for the Highway 89 project.

I found some zebras yesterday in a Sanpete County pasture

Sanpete County, about 100 miles from Salt Lake City, is famous for many kinds of animals: Rambouillet sheep breeding in the 1920s, the turkey farms of the 1940s and today, and some fine quarterhorses are being raised there. I know where to find a small-scale pig farmer and someone raising peacocks, but before yesterday, I had no idea anyone had stocked zebras on their land. Another mystery from the Highway 89 project.

Victory parade for 13-0 Utah Utes football team

Alternate caption: "Dude, what's with the rat dog?" The player at left is throwing candy to the crowd; the one at right looks none too sure about the fan with dog.

Congratulations to the Utes for a perfect season! If only the BCS were perfect.

I wasn't going to blog a best-of for 2008, mostly because the end-of-year recap on my 2008 resolutions was already nagging at me. The national implosion of the publishing industry directly impacted my Highway 89 project, and by the end of December, I was glad to see the calendar flip to a new start. But Jim Goldstein hounded me for a contribution to his collection of best-of blog posts, so here is my list.

February: Parry Motel, Kanab UT

Neon colored snow

I made the first of the 2008 trips to Arizona in February. A heavy snow blanketed southern Utah the day before I left. I learned that gas doesn't pump so well when the night time temperatures drop below -10F. And I made the first of many neon discoveries on my way south. I haven't blogged this image before.

Lomaki Pueblo at Wupatki NM

A year ago today I was at one of the jewels of the National Parks system, Wupatki NM. Dusted with a little snow, it's one of my favorite places on US Highway 89.

Kurt at National Parks Traveler asked me to contribute an article on Wupatki for his site, which is chock-full of information and stories about most every unit in the NPS's care. My story on Wupatki NM appears today.

Shaping the handle of my brand

Henri Cartier-Bresson talked about the "decisive moment" when all the elements of a photo come together. This image is from my brand-making session last Friday. Which one better tells the story of Dan at his trade?

Sparks from the welder's flame

I read plenty about the new Internet economy and social media. Plenty of self-styled experts are expounding on the importance of branding my identity, etc., etc., etc. How do they monetize harping and nagging anyway?

So I took their advice, sort of, and drove down Highway 89 to Mt. Pleasant to meet my rancher-friend Reed Thomas's personal brand-consultant, Dan Oldroyd. Dan knows how to make stuff, real stuff, in his shop full of anvils, tongs, furnaces and a personal hobbit-sized train engine he built. He and a buddy are laying track for it on 5 acres in Mt. Pleasant, but we'll save that for another time.

And while I made photos, Dan made me a brand. It's not registered (yet) so I can't show it to you. I deferred to the experts as far as the particulars, and Dan put a nice loop on the end, turning it into a "wall-hanger" since I don't as yet own any cattle needing a brand. Note that "as yet" part. I'm thinking about it.

Apparently, I was quite lucky to get these shots without also getting a corneal burn. So if you go get your own brand fabricated (and Dan of Dan's Machining in Mt. Pleasant, across from the now-defunct winery, will be quite happy to see you. Tell him Ann from the big city sent you), don't look at the welding light.

And if you are a social media maven type, you can follow me (anntorrence) on Twitter too.

Airborne above Skyline Drive

Utah is well-known for its skiing and snowboading, but did you know it also has a world-class snow-kiting venue? Combining wind, snow, and speed, these athletes fly in in all directions. Snow-kiting lets you ski (or board-enthusiasts use both kinds of equipment) uphill. Once there's snow on the ground in the mountains above the Sanpete Valley, the snow-kiting crowd is out there most weekends, and lessons can be organized for newbies.

Utah got an early storm that blanketed the region with snow, but not much since then. There's a chance of some more on Thursday. If the storm comes through, you can give it a try this weekend at the season-opener Snowkite Summit. Even if there's not enough coverage to ride, the manufacturers will be demoing new gear in the town of Fairview. If you go, say hello to Brian and Heather Schenk of Windzup. They helped pioneer the Skyline venue and are having such success with snowkiting in Sanpete County that they moved their company to Mount Pleasant.

For the ultimate in spectator sports, put this on your calendar: the US Open Snowkite Masters competition at Skyline, Utah in Sanpete County will be February 26 - March 1, 2009.

Sandstone reflections

I spent the last two days editing the Utah chapters of my opus on US Highway 89, which means I have been rifling through my books, notes and photocopies for random facts that need checking. Like these gems

• The forest service has been pleading with people since at least 1926, the year Highway 89 was born, to not shoot up the road signs.
• Utah's first "good roads" was held at Lagoon, ironic since Simon Bamberger built the resort in part to attract ridership to his electric tramway.
• The Dominguez-Escalante expedition of 1776 stopped at some hot springs in Spanish Fork Canyon on their way to Utah Lake. Probably Castilla Hot Springs, which was another resort, until it burned down.
• Piute County only has about 1,350 residents, but it's not the smallest in Utah (Daggett, with under 1,000, wins that contest)
• At its highest level, Lake Bonneville's surface was 650' above Logan's Main Street

Just a reminder: if you want to receive an email reminder when the book is published, please sign up on this secure form. I promise I will not use it for spam or other evil.

My favorite aspens

We probably wouldn't have gone to Jackson this year if I hadn't needed to visit the town library. The scientist has been under extraordinary pressure these last few months, and it's hard to justify the time away from the lab. So we made a short trip, with time for only a few photos. The original mission on the day I shot this landscape of Mt. Moran was simply a record shot of my favorite trees in Grand Teton NP, maybe anywhere. In all the years I have hiked, kayaked and photographed in the park, I had never seen them as glorious as they were this October. One more gift that came from my US 89 project. I will finish the book but the highway goes on forever.

Plywood now covers most of the windows of this former LDS ward building, privately owned, in Ovid, Idaho

The first ever Bear Lake Photo Seminar was a great success, with over 50 people attending and lots of participation. Harley blogged a great wrap-up of the workshop. I was struck by how few gearheads I met; these folks were much more interested in making photos. And I was deeply impressed by the hand-out the organizers distributed, which mapped out a number of interesting photo locations in the Montpelier area. If only I had had such a document when I was starting out on the Highway 89 project. Ross Walker said they are going to make the workshop an annual event, and next year should be even better. The Bear Lake region has been mostly, and undeservedly, a locals-only photography destination. Hopefully the Sharpshooters Camera Club can change that.

In my presentation, I talked about how this project has impacted my photography. One of the points I made was that, to tell the US89 story, sometimes I have had to return to the same location many times to get the image I wanted. I must have stopped at this church dozens of times, but the light was only right once. Even if I didn't make a picture, I was thinking about the image I wanted, learning that essential skill of previsualization that Ansel Adams always went on about.

The flipside of the story is the picture that can't be made anymore. I show a couple of images where the subject has been so dramatically altered, the image can't be made today. One of my (unblogged as yet) grain elevators was dismantled, board by board, five months after I photographed it. The famous haystacks in Jackson, Wyoming, aren't being stacked any more; the ranch has the big balers now. I am so glad I got the Ovid Ward shot when I did, because the back windows have plywood on them today. You can visualize it, can't you? The image won't ever be the same.

Then there are the images I didn't make in time, the particular piece of neon in Ogden, the rusty fuel tank in Piute County, and more I still lament. Either the light wasn't right, or I didn't think I had time to stop, or some other reason that I don't recall. I only remember the previsualized image I won't ever have. That's a harder lesson about working on projects, to do it now, before the bulldozer takes it away.

New Windsor Neon

This image is all about cool: cool blues, the 1950s jazzy kind of cool, the cool of a late evening. How deceptive images can be: it was 100 degrees in Phoenix that night.

When I went to Arizona in August for the monsoons, I had an extra evening in the schedule and I wanted to go downtown. Now central Phoenix isn't exactly the safest place to wander about after dark, so I contacted Alex, who I knew only through his NSFW blog, Voenix Rising. I knew he was enjoying with a new camera and thought he might be entertained by an ad hoc Photowalk. Despite his laryngitis and the monsoon heat, Alex agreed.

We had a good time getting to know each other, but I wasn't having much luck finding an angle on Phoenix that fit into the Highway 89 project. After a couple hours in the grueling heat radiating off the downtown concrete, we packed it in. I was driving Alex back to his car when I saw this blue glow a few blocks down the street. Alex suddenly got to see a new side of my personality; there was no way I was passing this up. Luckily, we were like-minded on the subject, and dragged our tripods out of the car.

Pretty soon, I had several series of images that really made me happy. It was darker than I like, but luckily the building was well-lit and stood out from the black sky. I shot for my usual neon post-processing routine. The owner of the hotel came out. He was very accommodating and told us a little about the restoration work he's done. Alex has been back since, but hasn't seen the motorcycle parked out front again.

So is it persistence, blind-squirrels finding the inevitable nut, or just good fortune when we run into subjects like this? I wonder. I do know that if I hadn't called Alex, if I hadn't put the gear in the truck, if I hadn't been sweltering for hours, if I hadn't parked where I did, I would have missed it. There's been a magic for me out on US 89 that is beyond explanation. I'm going to run (or drive) with it.

Tomorrow, I will be showing this image in my presentation at the Bear Lake Photo Seminar in Montpelier, Idaho. I added a new section to my Moab talk with images made since May in chronological order. It's a different take on the project, since I basically zigzagged border-to-border twice this summer. Glacier NP follows Sunset Crater NM, Nogales, Arizona is next to Yellowstone NP. I will let the audience decide whether I am committed or should be committed. I'm just going to keep driving until it's done.

Grain elevator in Wilsall, Montana

In the process of getting ready to talk about my U.S. 89 project on Saturday, I decided to pull together the images I made since I last gave this talk in May to see which ones to add to the presentation.

One night in my Moab motel room last May, I made a list of the essential images I needed to finish the project, and I left there committed to go get them. Since then, I have driven to both ends of the historic Highway 89 again (that's about 3,200 miles round-trip). I have been to Montana twice, Arizona twice, and five of the seven national parks, all in about five months. Except for the ones I have blogged, the +10,000 RAW files I shot since May have been filed, backed-up and set aside for "when I have time." Basically I came home, repacked, and went back out on the road all summer.

I knew I had worked my way pretty far down my list. But I still didn't have a sense of what I'd accomplished until I started selecting RAW files for processing. I might have said I had a dozen or two to finish, because my original list wasn't that long. After I copied over 200 files into the work folder, let's just say that "when I have time" has now become something of an emergency.

Like this grain elevator, opportunities presented themselves that weren't on my targeted list. When I stopped in Wilsall, I was, in fact, driving between two "must get" locations when a thunderstorm kicked up over the Absarokas to the south of the Shield River Valley. I have already confessed my near-obsession with grain elevators, and I stayed for a very long series of images that pleased me greatly.

Needless to say, I won't be adding 200+ images to my presentation. Since I am talking about "working in project mode," I may add a section at the end of recent images to show how the project has been built image by image. By the way, I spent so much time at Wilsall, I missed sunset at the second "must get" location and I had to stay in Montana another night. I think it was worth it.

Clouds on Mt. Moran at the Oxbow overlook, Grand Tetons National Park (panorama of seven images merged in Photoshop

The mountain was completely socked in at dawn. We went back to sleep, ate breakfast. I said, "Even if it is cloudy, I wanted to photograph my favorite aspens in the park." The clouds started to lift.

For fifteen years we have paddled and photographed at the Oxbow. We have seen some awesome sunrises there. This day was different. Humblingly beautiful. All I could (and can) say is "Thank you."

Herd of Pronghorn near Bondurant, Wyoming

My troops revolted yesterday. Or is it troop, when there's only one member of the corps? Anyway, R insisted that we take the US 189 route to Jackson, through Evanston, Kemmerer, Big Piney and Hoback Canyon. He's driven so many miles of U.S. Highway 89 with me over the years, I conceded, but only for the outbound leg of the trip. Besides, he was driving at the time.

Besides, he was being kind of romantic. See, we moved to Utah in 1993 and visited Jackson for the first time that year. We have been coming here every year at the end of September, and until I started this crazy project,

Sunset behind the Grand Canyon Lodge at the North Rim

Even though the sunset didn't bounce into the Grand Canyon the day I was there, I did make the files I needed to composite this image. I knew in field that I would need at least two images in a series of exposures to expand the dynamic range, and I ended up taking at least four bracketed exposures for each composition. To hold back the sky, I exposed 2 2/3 stops under the base image (4 seconds vs 25 seconds, at ISSSO 100 and f 7.1. When I'm setting up stuff like this, I put the camera in Manual mode and count the clicks in the exposure range that I want.

Back at the ranch, I chose my composition, then used Adobe Camera Raw to open the files. I ended up layering the same file twice, once with the Fill Light and Brightness settings cranked up a little, once unchanged. I opened all the files, renamed the "Background" in each to the file number, and then use "Shift" while dragging to stack them in aligned layers. To each layer I added to the base, I added a mask. My favorite tool for masking is the Gradient tool, in combination with the blending mode in the tool options bar. I might use the Gradient to make a mask from top to bottom to reveal the sky, then re-use the Gradient tool with the blending mode set to Darken or Lighten as needed, to add or subtract to my mask without impacting the part of the mask that's how I want it. Don't forget that you can use selection tools on the mask to limit your changes. Because the masks don't have non-destructive adjustment layers, be careful. (I asked the Adobe engineers for adjustment layers on channels once, and they looked at me in horror. I understand I'm asking for a lot, but I had my reasons: remixes. But I digress.) For those of us who learned Photoshop before there were adjustment layers and the history palette, working with masks brings up a lot of bad memories; for those who picked up Photoshop after 1996, just remember you can find your mask in the channels palette and make a copy of it before you edit it.

I didn't get to stay in the lodge itself that night. I was lucky to score a room at all. I do have my rim-side room request in mind for my next visit with R. Maybe we'll plan a celebratory event when I finish the text for the Highway 89 project, if I get it done before they close for the season. I plan to be done before that, but I'm not in charge of the weather.

Kites flying over Spanish Fork

Thanks to Mecworks in our PhotowalkingUtah group, I got to get in close to the Berkeley Kite Wranglers' demo at the Sky Spectacular in Spanish Fork. With an ATV, you can make your own wind. The festival celebrated the launching of the monumentally huge wind power generators at the mouth of Spanish Fork Canyon, just east of where US6 and Highway 89 join. Erik joined us, so we declared it an impromptu Photowalk. Spanish Fork plans to make this an annual event, so maybe we'll make it a destination for one of next year's Photowalks.

Monsoon clouds over Saguaro National Park

I came to Arizona with an agenda, a list of essential photos for the U.S. Highway 89 book project. I have a vision for the book, I can see it almost page-by-page. For the last 10 days, I have been knocking out pictures that fit into that overall vision. I can get overly task-oriented, to the point where, if I'm not careful I could miss out on other great pictures.

At Glacier National Park, I was intending to photograph the classic view of Grinnell Point at sunrise. Without any clouds, the scene is pedestrian, and the second morning I went out, the sky was "severe clear" over the lake. To the east, the clouds colored up spectacularly. So I walked over to where I could see the pretty sunrise, without intending to photograph it. Then I saw the reflection of the clouds over the creek and started shooting. The result is one of my favorite photos from the trip. Will it make it into the book? Probably not, but I'm glad to have it, and to have seen it that morning.

Similarly, I was wandering about Saguaro National Park last week in search of sunset location when a thunderstorm kicked up. This photo idea wasn't on the agenda either, but it was the one I wanted to make when I saw it. It might even make the final cut for the book, but I wasn't thinking of that at the time.

The lesson I'm learning out here is that, while the structure of the project helps set the compass for my work, I have to be willing to toss aside maps and checklists and trust my inner direction, if I'm going to make the kind of pictures I really want to make.

Twin bridges over Marble Canyon and the Colorado River

Arizona's first state highway, U.S. 89, was mostly complete from Nogales to Flagstaff by 1926. The segment from Flagstaff to the Utah line took much longer. Lee's Ferry over the Colorado River was shut down after a deadly accident in 1928; the bridge over Marble Canyon, 6 miles downstream, replaced the ferry altogether in 1929. The second bridge (the lower one in this photo) was installed in 1995 and the original was opened to foot traffic for visitors to the Glen Canyon National Recreation Area center at the left end of the bridge in this photo

Until the bridge over Glen Canyton opened in 1957, all north-south traffic from Phoenix to Salt Lake City used the Navajo Bridge and passed through Jacob's Lake. The Glen Canyon Bridge is also a two-lane bridge, but the route through Page avoids the windy mountain climb and descent to cross the Kaibab Plateau. The original section of U.S. 89 from Bitter Springs to Kanab was renumbered US89A when the road through Page was finished as part of the infrastructure to build the Glen Canyon Dam.

The research for the Highway 89 project has been completely enjoyable, like a huge jigsaw puzzle with pieces scattered in libraries and museums along the highway's 1,600 miles. Winnowing the data into a story that can fit into a book, and making the accompanying images is yet another kind of puzzle. Of my numerous photos of the Navajo Bridges, this aerial I made last weekend with Maria Langer gives the best sense of how fundamental a barrier the Colorado River presented to interstate travel. I am having so much fun assembling the story of this scenic route through the American West.

Horseshoe Bend near Page Arizona

One of the great things about the blogosphere is the people you might meet. I say "might" because the blog only goes so far. At some point, I have to pick up the phone or email and make the personal contact. I met Maria Langer last February when I was in Wickenburg. Who could not be intrigued by a best selling computer book author who also happens to have a helicopter charter business? And she has horses, chickens and a husband! Maria spent the early summer drying cherries on contract to some Washington orchards, now she's in Page flying for tourists, so I had the chance to stop in on my way from SLC to Phoenix.

There wasn't a room to be had in Page on Friday night - I thought gasoline was expensive, but plenty of people were motoring huge watercraft about the lake this weekend. Maria put me up in her trailer and introduced me to the rest of the pilots camped out in the RV park near the airport. This pilot subculture, like river guides and dude wranglers, has its own language and customs, but hospitality seems to rank high. The next morning, Maria suggested breakfast at Marble Canyon, about 40 miles from Page by car. It's only 10 minutes by helicopter if you go the straight path; we did not. What fun would that be?

Maria put me completely at ease in the air, and on the way back, she took off the door on my side so I could get some shots without the bubble glare. She flew a legal path over the restricted area inside Grand Canyon National Park boundaries, and then circled over the famous Horseshoe Bend at a couple different altitudes. I also got some shots of both the Glen Canyon and Marble Canyon Bridges (2 of the seven land crossings over the Colorado River in 750 miles) and a fascinating look at Antelope Canyon from above.

If I had a sponsor for the flight time, I would do an aerial tour of the entire length of U.S. Highway 89. We have so many locations emblazoned on our memories from a particular location, and I'd love to show some of my favorite places from different perspectives. Most people make a short hike from Highway 89 to the Horseshoe Bend. They see it from the upper right in this image and never get to see the rest of the s-curve. Maria is a photographer herself, and knows how to work with other photographers in the air. She has put together some outstanding aerial tours, including a week-long circle of the highlights of Arizona. If you are looking to fly with someone, I highly recommend Flying M Air (and the breakfast at the Cliff Dwellers Lodge).

Sunrise over Swiftcurrent Lake at Glacier National Park

The morning I took this photo, I was the only photographer out on the shore of Swiftcurrent Lake for a long time. The gale winds whipping across the lake might have had something to do with it. I had the heavy tripod and ducked into the lee of the hotel; no amount of ballast would have given a sharp shot out in the open. Luckily, the clouds lit up favorably in the only direction that worked with the wind. Amazingly beautiful color peaked 27 minutes prior to this shot. (I'm working on a panorama I made at that time.) The sky went quiet for a few minutes, then the light play among the clouds broke through for a good half hour. I like this one, and many others. The lesson is to be there early and then stay put to see what happens. Sometimes I get lucky.

Glacial melt forms Lake Grinnell in Glacier National Park

Lake Grinnell is about a 3 mile hike from Many Glaciers Hotel on the east side of Glacier National Park. Some people make a shorter hike out of it by riding the classic wooden boats across Swiftcurrent Lake, transferring to another boat on Lake Josephine, and then hiking about a mile to Lake Grinnell. The trail parallels all three lakes, and we wanted to scout a better kayak portage around a hiker's bridge at the connecting stream's entrance to Swiftcurrent Lake, so we hiked.

What a difference a season makes. Last year, at almost the same time, the valleys were filled with smoke from the countless forest fires in the northwest, the streams were low from the drought, and hardly a flower was in bloom. The big snows of last winter changed everything, and we counted several dozen species of wildflowers on the hike. We did see one bear that we are pretty sure was the same individual: a distinctively blond cub last year on the southern slopes above the Many Glaciers Hotel has grown into a massive blond yearling almost as big has the sow it was foraging with.

Glacier NP photography has some interesting complications, like the bear factor, road construction, and wind. The classic wide-angle shot of everything in focus from flowers a foot away to the ridgeline will require a lot more time in the park. I am not complaining, just saying. Even though I'm close to finishing my project, I'm looking forward to a lot more time in the field at the northernmost end of U.S. 89.

Toward Logan Pass, Glacier National Park

The Highway 89 project marches on, this time to the top of Going-to-the-Sun Road. Here's a view from the east side, looking to the west in late afternoon. I wanted to shoot this angle again, but the road was shut down completely each night, much to our surprise one pre-dawn launch. So close, so far. Another reason to come back. As if I needed any more reasons.

We are in Choteau, MT, to visit another library, do some hiking, and be in small town America for a few days. The seat of Teton County, MT (not Teton County, WY, but same creative French trapper naming strategy), Choteau has schools, a hospital, and more services than one might expect in a town of 1,500. Like a latte shop (also the nature store serving the birders at Freezeout Lake and a hunting shop) that has made R very happy.

Tonight, we saw a guy's guy in with boots on the barstool, wearing a cowboy hat and drinking white wine. That's what this project is all about: reinventing the west, one cowboy at a time.

Lower Yellowstone Falls

Regardless of the price of gas, visitation at the two biggest NPS units on Highway 89 was at record levels in June.

The USA Today reported that Yellowstone had 612,000 tourist visits in June, while the