Under the Burning Arch: When Sunrise Refused to Let Go

The thought of what lay ahead took the edge off the morning chill as I pulled on cold pants, a shirt, and shoes, then gathered some breakfast snacks for the road. My mind ran through a mental checklist of key items to bring: beanie, gloves, charged camera batteries, and an extra memory card—a sunrise photography preparation process I had gone through myriad times before. The heater in my trailer was just beginning to overcome the cold as I shut it down, fired up my truck, and departed my off-road campsite. Gravel crunched under the tires as I glanced toward sparse, low-lying clouds on the eastern horizon and the softening gray of the coming dawn. I raced down Highway 191 and turned toward the Island in the Sky plateau of Canyonlands National Park, which stretches southward in a vast erosional display shaped by the converging Green River on the west and the Colorado River on the east. Slowing for sharper turns, I kept an eye out for mule deer, which are more prone to dart in front of vehicles at this early hour.

Not far down the Island in the Sky main thoroughfare, a parking area appeared. While no other cars had been visible ahead or behind me, a few vehicles belonging to other intrepid dawn seekers already sat in some spaces. Fifty miles to the west, I could see the Henry Mountains, freshly lit by the sun, while closer, undulating hills were rapidly emerging from the shadows of the La Sal Mountains.

After a brisk seventy-five-yard walk up a slope and another two hundred yards around a bend, a scene unfolded: sunlight breaking over the rim of the La Sals illuminated the underbelly of Mesa Arch. A few onlookers spoke in reverent tones, quietly taking in the view through the arch to Washer Woman Tower, occasionally snapping pictures with smartphones and tripod-mounted advanced camera gear. A debate arose in my mind: take the picture or just enjoy the moment. I decided on both but found myself fighting the “enjoy the moment” side of the equation. How could I not capture what I was seeing? Fifty photographs later, many of the early onlookers had left, and I sat with a young couple from the Midwest who readily agreed to pose while looking out over the softly sunlit scene.

We talked about the Native Americans, ranchers, outlaws, and pioneers who were among the first to view what we now enjoyed. I imparted a few mostly true yarns of the days of Utah yore. Not a breeze, bird, or other natural interruption brought any distraction. For a minute, our discussion of those historic human experiences added extra seasoning to our senses. Though other settings still awaited, this scene held us like a strong magnet, dissolving our will to walk away. The arch won the morning; our captivation was only released when the golden glow of sunrise eventually dissipated into the bright of day.