Some places don’t reveal themselves until you’re directly above them. Canyonlands is one of those places.
I flew at dusk, when the last light catches the canyon walls and turns the red rock into something closer to amber. From the ground it’s enormous. From above, it becomes a map — layers of time written in stone, the river far below cutting the same path it has for millions of years.
This is one of those shots where the scale only lands in print. On a screen it’s a nice photo. At 24×36 on metal, the depth of the canyon becomes something you feel.
