Of course it does rain once in awhile, but never when you’re visiting. By definition, a desert is a place that gets less than 10 inches (250mm) of rain a year. Moab, Utah, averages even less at just 9 inches a year, with much of that coming during summer thundershowers. It’s not unusual in Canyon Country to watch clouds billowing overhead, rain streaking thickly from their underbellies, only to see it evaporate before it ever hits the ground. For the denizens of a parched, sunbaked land, it makes for a special kind of torture.
By dawn, clouds already obscured the sky so sunrise was a non-event. Cold winds whipped into the alcoves at Cove of Caves, through the dual openings of Double Arch, and past the tenuous spire of Balanced Rock. In the distant La Salle Mountains, it was snowing. By midmorning, a steady rain showed no sign of letting up. I ate lunch in my car while watching waves of rain roll across Fiery Furnace to the north. Far down a drenched four-wheel-drive road at the end of Salt Valley, the minarets known as Marching Men stood nearly obscured by clouds. It was a fascinating afternoon, but it made for dull and uninspired photography.
The rain eventually stopped late in the day and the sun poked tentatively through the clouds. I raced along the road, stopping at various points for photos—Garden of Eden, Petrified Dunes, Courthouse Towers. I spent a good hour shooting the water-filled potholes and brilliant yellow cottonwoods at Courthouse Wash. Sunset was not overly spectacular—clouds to the west obscured the sun, but overall, the afternoon shoot was a winner. It was long after dark before I drove the winding road down the side of the cliffs and back to Moab for the night.
Next Up: Big Natives and Little Aliens
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